#IF YOU GET THE REFERENCE I WILL KISS YOU ON THE LIPS

[kaciidubs]

Gentle | Monstober Mini Fic

We won't talk about how late I am to everything currently, yeah?

✧ Summary: In which you get to finally indulge in your Orc boyfriend, even if it's just the tip of the iceberg. ✧  ✧ Word Count: 1.7k ✧ Warnings: Monster fucking, Orc! Chris, smut, fluff, slight size kink, slight humor ✧  ✧ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ✧  ✧ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, Reader is referred to as Pretty, Pretty Human, Human, slightly edited [I finished this at 3:40am] ✧ Stray Kids Masterlist ✧ General Masterlist

“Alright, Channie,” you spoke softly, your fingers tugging at the smooth ribbon of your sheer robe, “gentle.”

“Gentle.”

Your heart warmed at the way he parroted your advisory – a softness that was a stark contrast to his otherwise rugged features. 

Anyone in your position would've been fairly scared out of their minds, but you were far from it - this was liberating, exhilarating even. 

An orc and a human - your orc, the man you promised to remain by no matter the difficulties and stigma. 

This type of pairing wasn’t rare per se, but it was certainly less explored due to various... differences, to say the least; if not for the way he completely dwarfed you in sheer height and mass, then for the way he could lift a couch with one hand as if it were as light as a feather. 

Contrasts, like in the way his hand could easily cover your entire face while yours could barely cover the expanse of the line of his jaw to his upper cheekbone.

However, those differences only proved to fuel your desire for him more, and your sentiments were reflected tenfold – that much you were extremely positive about.

“Slowly.” Chris affirmed, the huskiness of his tone spurring goosebumps along your skin.

Nodding, you let the robe slip from your shoulders and fall to your arms, fighting back a smirk as his eyes flicked to the exposed skin. “Slowly – and if you want to stop, we’ll stop.”

His heated gaze met your own sultry stare, a knee-buckling grin accenting his gorgeous tusks. “If you want to stop, we’ll stop.”

Cementing the verbal agreement, you dropped your arms and let the robe flutter to the hardwood floor without a sound, leaving you bare and open to his viewing pleasure.

“Pretty.” Came a breathless sigh, and you weren’t sure if he truly meant to say it out loud as he regarded you with the same look of awe as one would to a radiant sunset.

You stepped away from the pool of fabric and sauntered your way toward the bed, climbing onto the plush mattress before finally making your first form of contact with him ever since you’d entered the room; hooking your leg over his waist and sitting pretty against his abdomen. 

“Hi.” Resting your hands against his chest, you reveled in the warmth that radiated off of his body before a small smirk grew on your lips, “Come here often?”

A strong huff shook your body against his as he rolled his eyes, though his amused smirk didn’t go unnoticed as a large hand trailed along your side before cupping your cheek. “Quiet, come.”

Obliging his request, you allowed yourself to be dragged down into a slow kiss, ever mindful of the tusks that grazed the corners of your lips.

Slow and steady only seemed to last as long as each breath that passed between the two of you - short and waning, while whatever semblance of control began to chip away with every subconscious grind of your hips against his lower stomach. Your desperation was only made worse when you felt the pressure of his tip meet the curve of your ass on one particularly long drag; the large head twitching slightly and the fabric of his boxers slightly damp.

“Channie?” You breathed against his lips, pulling away just enough to meet his eyes, your unspoken question translating perfectly with the heat of desire burning within your irises.

He took you in for a moment, eyes jumping between your own and your lips, “Okay.”

That was the last thing you remember properly registering before you found yourself grinding against his cock like a bitch in heat; your brain short circuiting the minute your pussy nestled against the wonderful veins that decorated his length like a textured map. It was heaven - at least, as close to heaven you would be getting as your aching cunt still felt empty, yearning for the final piece of your lover that was so close but still so far away.

“Fuck- ‘M not going anywhere, pretty.” Chris huffed, grunting at the way your nails pressed a little harder into his chest, yet it still wasn’t enough to break skin. “Take your time-”

“Christopher,” you all but whined, pinning him with a look that made his dick throb underneath you, “we take our time when you eat me out, we take our time when you finger me - right now I need you as fast as I can, as hard as I can. Can you please just give it to me like I want?”

Sliding your hips up, your body shivered as the large head of his dick slid through your folds, the smooth skin a welcome sensation against your sensitive clit yet an agonizing reminder of what you’re unable to partake in full.

“Come on, take care of me the way only you can, baby.”

The way only he could - even if it wasn’t to the extent you deserved, you still ached for him, and what type of Orc would he be if he continued to deny his little human what she wanted?

You could sense a shift in the air, a change that caused a spark of electricity to shoot down your spine, but before you could say anything your body jolted forward from a cant of his hips; a fiery glint flashing in his lidded eyes.

“Don’t know if I should call you needy, or greedy,” he murmured, large hands coming to rest on either side of your waist, “always ready for more no matter the limits.” He took the initiative in guiding your hips up the underside of his cock, using you like a toy as his tip bumped against your clit, “Pretty human, can’t get enough of what’s already too much to handle normally - I wonder who spoiled her?”

A short whimper escaped you as his own hips rocked forward, dragging his veiny cock back through your folds in a pace reminiscent of intermittent, languid thrusts.

“Who did this to you, pretty? Hm? Who made you this greedy?”

His goading tone made your pussy throb, clipped gasps tumbling from your lips while you endured the ride he controlled.

“Answer me, human.” He snarled, eyebrows pinching as his intense gaze kept your eyes locked on his own.

“Y-You…” The timidness was foreign to your ears, this new side of your lover completely new to your psyche. “You, Chris.”

A deep rumble reverberated within his chest, a lowly chuckle as his lips curled into a cocky smirk, “Me? No - see, I only give you what I think you can handle, it couldn’t be me.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin, “Chris-”

“I’ve only given you enough to keep you satisfied, enough to make sure that your needs were well taken care of,” his faux thrusts grew quicker, slicker with the mixture of precum and arousal that glistened along his dick, “maybe that’s what made you start thinking you could take more - crave more, is that it? Did I ruin my pretty little human?”

“Y-Yes!” Dropping your head forward, you swallowed thickly as your legs twitched at his sides, the stimulation conquering you in ways you’d never felt before. “You ruined me, Channie - C-Can’t even think about going back to a-another human, it wouldn’t be enough.”

His hands flexed, body shuddering with a deep breath as he tried his best to conceal the pride that swelled within him. “Another human, hm? What about another Orc?”

You shook your head vehemently, “No- God, no, it’s only you!”

“Eyes up, pretty.”

Lifting your head, you met his sultry gaze with pleasure glazed eyes.

“Say it again.”

“I-It-” A broken moan tumbled from your lips, your orgasm just on the horizon, “It’s only you - I only want you!”

His eyelids fluttered, hips bucking just a bit harder, “F-Fuck, good girl.”

“I-I’m close, Channie,” you whimpered, your body working overtime to try to overpower his grip on you to garner a fraction of more stimulation, “I’m so close, baby.”

“Go on, pretty - come for me, show me how gorgeous you’d look coming on my cock.”

Your stomach clenched hard enough to make you double over, though his hands kept you steady as your walls fluttered and throbbed, choked breaths shaking your body all the while.

Chris grunted, clenching his jaw as he slid his hips back just enough to nestle his tip against your spasming cunt, daring to press it harder against your entrance in wishful desires of feeling more of your warmth - his eyes fluttering shut as his mind ran wild.

“C-Chris?”

“So close…” He breathed, hips twitching as his conscience fought against his reality. “Y-You’re not the only one ruined, pretty,” his hips continued to rock up, fucking you with the only part of his cock that could remotely fit, “what I wouldn’t give to be inside of you, to feel you fully - my pretty human.”

“Inside…” You parroted breathlessly, one hand sliding to his chest while the other ventured up to tangle in his mussed curls, “To feel me… To come in me…”

His hands squeezed your sides, trembling slightly as he shook his head, “D-Don't.”

“Can you? Like this? Just this once?” You rolled your hips back, wiggling against his tip, “Please, baby - show me how gorgeous you’d look coming inside of me.”

“F-Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

You felt his cock twitch, his hips bucking up until a loud moan flew past his lips.

The sensation was new, different yet welcomed all the same; the warmth of his seed flooding against your cunt before excessively dripping toward your clit and creating a puddle on his lower stomach.

Your body attempted to press back further but you were stopped by his vice grip, pulling you away so the last wave of his orgasm could paint a few lines up his stomach.

A whine of protest floated through you, “Channie!”

“Pretty,” he deadpanned, blinking hard before opening his eyes to look at you with a raised eyebrow, “you’re getting too greedy now.”

“It’s your fault for being so irresistible.” Huffing out a light laugh, a shiver ran down your spine as you felt some of his cum subsequently drip out of you.

Humming in faux agreement, he nodded, “Well, let’s go get cleaned up and you can tell me all the ways me being irresistible turns you into an insatiable beast.”

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[ace-of-zaun]

Kiss Me More. pt 2:

silco x f!reader - 1.8k words - SFW

series summary: “Whatever, all I’m saying is, I can teach you how to kiss,” Silco insists, before adding just a little too nonchalantly, “You know, if you want to.”

cw: first dates, jealous silco, silco is a little shit, silco causing problems on purpose, mild angst, mild sexual references, fluff, friends to lovers, young silco

PART 1 

-

One agonising, excruciatingly long week later and neither you nor Silco have mentioned the kiss again. In fact, Silco has been so weird, (well, weirder than he normally is anyhow) that you’re genuinely starting to worry you accidentally damaged some of his brain cells when you pulled on his hair. 

He holds himself all weirdly now, like he’s forgotten how sitting or standing works. And he stares and stares and stares at you, and then scowls when you look back or ask him what’s wrong. 

You even catch him just standing staring at your bedroom door one day, smack bang in the middle of the corridor, but when you question what he’s doing he just grunts at you and slams into his own bedroom, the tips of his ears flushed crimson.

This, frankly unhinged, behaviour continues right up until you’re leaving for your date with Seven. 

Vander, the wonderful, had said you looked lovely, and Silco, the prat, had just scowled at your outfit and crossed his arms in a huff.

Not wanting to spend the whole of your first ever date giving a rage-fuelled rant about your idiot best friend, you’d taken a deep breath and magnanimously chosen to just roll your eyes at him, instead of picking a fight. 

You can get him back later by unpicking the seams of his favourite shirt, anyway. That’ll show him. 

But as you’d looked over your shoulder to say goodbye to the boys, fingertips hanging loosely off the door handle, you’d caught Silco surreptitiously looking you up and down with a surprisingly soft look on his face. 

It had thrown you for a bit of a loop, the little motion and facial expression re-playing in your head over and over again as you’d walked through the streets of Zaun…

But then there’s no time to think of it anymore because you’re suddenly on your date with Seven - who you think you like. It’s a bit difficult to tell, honestly. 

The date goes well (you guess, you’ve never been on one before, so there’s nothing to really compare it to). He’d taken you to dinner at one of the local food stalls because the restaurants on The Promenade are far, far too expensive, but at least the food had been familiar. 

Plus, it was way nicer than any of Sil’s burnt, home-made meals… Probably. (Okay, maybe you’ve grown a little bit fond of them after all this time.)

You and Seven had talked for most of the date. And you’d gotten to know each other a little bit better. Well, you’d got to know Seven better; you didn’t really get much of a chance to talk about yourself, in between his monologues. 

And sure, you didn’t kiss, but he did hold your hand on the way home. 

Now, as you reach your apartment building, Seven insists on walking you up to your flat, even gesturing for you to climb the stairs before him with a sweep of his arm. And when you finally arrive outside your apartment door, he turns to you with a strange, smug look on his face. 

“Well, I suppose this brings an end to our evening,” he says, voice dropping in a way that you assume is meant to be seductive, but honestly just makes him sound like he needs a cough drop. “But there is one more thing I want to do before I leave.”

Before you even have a chance to respond, Seven is backing you up against the door, arms slithering around you until they rest low around your waist (a little too low if you’re being honest). An uncomfortable feeling settles in your chest but then he’s leaning down and lining his lips up with yours and-

Shit, this is it. He’s going to kiss you. 

You heave a sharp intake of breath and desperately try to remember everything Silco had told you during your little practice session, but it’s currently quite difficult to think properly when your heart is drumming in your chest and your hands are shaking. 

Of course, thinking about Silco must summon him because instead of feeling the sensation of lips on lips, you’re suddenly experiencing the sensation of falling, as the door opens behind you. 

Without the solid, wooden surface holding your upper back in place, you tip backwards with a squeal, only saved from falling flat on your arse by Seven tightening his arms around you and setting you back on your feet. 

Instantly, you want his suffocating arms off of you, so you subtly shove him away as you turn to face the culprit of the opening door. 

“Silco!”

“Hey, you’re back,” he announces, a little too casually. It doesn’t match his bizarre, half-amused, half-something-else expression at all. Or the death grip he has on the door frame. “Great, we need to change the bed sheets.” 

You almost sputter at the choice of phrasing. Not his bed sheets, the bed sheets, like there’s only one bed in the apartment, and needing to change them implies…

Before you can clarify, because you don’t want your date getting the wrong idea, Silco turns to look at Seven, eyes narrowing dangerously. 

Uh, oh. You know that look. That’s his ‘I’m going to make your life a fucking misery’ look. 

“Oh, who’s your little friend?” Silco asks, voice deceptively sweet. 

“Seven,” he responds, holding a hand out for Sil to shake, which he promptly ignores. “And you are?”

“Really, very busy right now, so if you’ll just excuse us.” Silco dismisses him, resting one hand on the small of your back as he tries to herd you through the doorway and into the flat. 

You squirm out of his grasp, annoyance levels rising until they’re practically reaching Piltover. 

“Silco, just get the stuff out the airing cupboard and I’ll be with you in a min-"

“It’s okay, baby girl, I’d best be going anyway.” Seven interrupts you, stepping even closer to you. His voice does that stuffy, flu thing again, and he acts like he’s speaking only to you, but it’s definitely loud enough for Silco to hear. “I had a great time this evening.”

“Me too.” You smile at him with tight lips, despite it being a bit of a lie. It just feels like it’s something you’re supposed to say at the end of a date. 

“I’d love to do it again sometime,” he continues, voice taking on an overly suggestive tone. “I’ll see you at the shop? We can arrange another date… maybe some late night swimming?”

You feel your face heat up at the thought, and it certainly doesn’t help that Silco is a foot away, burning a hole into the side of your skull. 

Janna, you really hope Seven doesn’t try to kiss you again in front of Sil, you think you might die of embarrassment. You pretend to scratch at your nose, subtly covering your mouth, just in case he tries again. 

“Uh, I'll see you later,” you say noncommittally. “Goodnight, Seven.”

Except, it doesn’t seem to work because he just grabs the hand covering your face and brings it up to his lips, pressing a rough kiss against your fingers. It’s an effort not to squirm. 

“Goodnight, princess,” he drawls, winking when you just stare at him.

Then, he finally notices the intense death stare Silco is sending his way, dropping your hand to shoot daggers back at your best friend before turning on his heel and sauntering down the stairs. 

With Seven gone, a weird sense of relief floods through you, but it quickly dissipates, leaving you with nothing but the urge to smack Silco round the back of his stupidly beautiful head. You don’t, though. 

Instead, you march back inside the flat, hackles raised as Silco closes the door behind you and leans back on it. He dusts his hands off with two wide sweeps up and down like the dramatic idiot he is. 

“And good riddance.”

Slowly, you turn to face him fully, carefully watching his eyes widen slightly in mild alarm. 

“What the hell was that?”

“What?” he asks, really, genuinely confused. 

You could throttle him. 

“That!” 

“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean,” Silco replies. 

“You were so rude to him!” you explode. “And you…” 

You want to say that he implied that the two of you share a bed, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. Hell, you know your cheeks are absolutely burning at just the thought of it. (And not even just the usual things you think of when sharing a bed with someone, but even just the thought of waking up next to him, seeing him when he’s all relaxed and soft in the morning. It hurts to even picture it.)

“Yeah, well, I don’t like him.” Silco interrupts your runaway daydream. 

“Why? You don't even know him!” you protest. 

“I just don’t like the look of him.”

“Silco!" 

“What? I don’t think he’s right for you. I mean, did you hear him? I had a lovely evening, princess, why don’t we go skinny dipping for our next date, doll.” The mocking accent he puts on is far from flattering. “Ugh, what a slimeball.”

“He doesn’t even sound like that!” You don’t know why you even bother protesting, he’s clearly on a roll. 

“And what kind of a name is Seven, anyway? Do you think his parents hated him too? Do you think that’s why he’s such a prick?”

You sigh heavily. 

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, turning away from him to walk through the living room and towards your bedroom. 

Except you don’t get very far because Silco catches your hand and gently pulls you back to him, until you’re stood holding hands in the middle of the room. 

“Wait, I actually need your help making my bed,” he says, face and voice melting into something genuine (and irritatingly endearing). 

But not endearing enough after all the shit he’s been putting you through this last week. 

You pull your fingers out of his grip and slap at his hand when he tries to grab them again. 

“Get Vander to do it,” you snap, perhaps a little too harshly. 

“But he’s still at work!” He’s borderline pleading now. 

“Well, you’ll just have to sleep in dirty sheets then, won’t you?” You say, muttering a sardonic little, “Twat,” under your breath as you finally walk away. 

Predictably, Silco is in a massive sulk for a ridiculous amount of time after that.

He doesn’t even stop when you finally offer to help him change his bed sheets, watching him messily tucking the corners of the bed sheets under his threadbare mattress in silence, until you bat his hands away and show him how to do it properly (honestly, the boy is useless without you). 

By the end of the week, you decide that you just don’t understand him and probably never will. (It still doesn’t stop you from thinking about him every second of every day, though.)

-

super secret taglist: @oceansssblue @inolaphoenix @holographicgarden

[not-rigel]

Ain't no country boy quitter

MORE COWBOY/OUTLAW SEV

rating: E

warnings: smut, outlaw sevika, top sevika, rough sex, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, strap-on sex, praise, some descriptors used, BITING

WC: 2.3 k

this is part 2. part 1

Sleep is slowly starting to release its hold on you, control and sense of touch slowly returning to your body as you wake. You feel gentle presses to your neck along with little tickles of air. A few seconds later, you can recognize the feeling as Sevika kissing your neck. She feels the moment you wake up, feeling the shift in your breathing and heartbeat under her lips. 

“Howdy,” you greet her, voice groggy from sleep.  

Sevika chuckles into your skin. She hated being mistaken for a cowboy before you, any reference to the occupation made her roll her eyes. But you made her love it, made her want to buy a ranch and herd cattle sun-up till sundown. She already has a horse, so maybe the idea was close to reality and that made her happy. 

“Mornin’, sugar. You need more sleep? Know I kept you up plenty last night,” she kisses into your neck. You hum a low moan, feeling her plush lips press onto your pulse. 

“I was having a nice dream,” you muse. 

“Yeah?” 

“Was being kissed by an outlaw. Real pretty lady.” You're trying to flatter her though you don't need to. She's heard her name depart from your lips enough times last night to know what you think of her. 

“Let's get you back to your dream, sugar,” she says, shifting up to press her lips to yours. She has the softest lips you've ever known, capable of expressing so much through their touch. She pulls herself in close and cups your cheek, her thumb gently, somehow lovingly, strokes your skin. You're still completely bare from last night's activities and her breasts caress yours. Still half-asleep, you weakly pull her in closer to you by her lower back. Your hand remains there, holding her to you.

The two of you meld together in the kiss, bodies and souls feeling light. You want to make this moment last forever, stay like this for however long you can. But eventually you have to separate from her to breathe. 

“Can this be the type of dream where you melt into me?” you propose, knowing she can make the impossible possible. 

Sevika kisses your cheek,“It's your dream, sweetheart. Tell me what you want.” You try to think it over but all you can focus on is how wonderful her touch is. Her skin radiates warmth and comfort. 

“Is there anything you want?” you ask her, unable to decide. 

“I want what you want,” she answered simply. 

“You really know how to put on the charm, cowboy.”

“I’m dead serious sugar, I’m all about pleasure. Need to satisfy you.” Her hand leaves your face, trailing down your neck and collarbone. She returns to the kiss, her large, plump lips covering yours. Your breath hitches as she paws at your tit. She gropes your breasts, devouring each of your moans into her mouth. All of your reactions fuel her, make her entire body buzz with passion and excitement. 

Your hips grind against nothing, seeking stimulation. She shifts to press her thigh between your legs and your thighs immediately spread to welcome her. The kiss grows hungrier as you grind against her, tenderness replaced with lust. 

Your arousal is leaking onto her thigh and it helps you grind faster against her. Sevika flexes her thigh and you feel it on your clit. Your hand on her back clenches and your fingernails press into her skin. You almost miss it but she lets out a short whimper. The sound goes right to your nervous system, lighting all your nerves and your spine and your brain. You need more. You dig your nails into her skin and she fully moans into your mouth. 

“Dammit, sugar. You figured out my secret,” she chuckles. She loves being marked, bitten, scratched, having her hair pulled. Any evidence that she made you feel so good that you can't help but tear away at her. 

“I was hopin’ you'd like it a little rough,” you giggle, you loved her gentleness and sweetness from last night but you need this woman to ruin you. You need her to fuck you until you only know two words, ‘please’ and her name. 

“How rough do you want me?” She's testing your limits, needing to know exactly what she needs to do to make you fall apart for her. She needs to give you the most perfect blend of pleasure. 

“I don't want you to hurt me but I want you to push my limits. Something just tells me you know how to make me scream your name until I forget it,” you challenge. 

“That I can do,” she smirks, pressing one last peck to your lips. She presses kisses down your jaw then moves down to your throat. She pinches your nipple, trying to get you to react. Your reaction is better than she hoped, moaning and grinding harder onto her thigh. Kissing your neck as you moan is a delight Sevika wishes she had known sooner. She moves her lips over to the other side of your neck, her tongue licks your skin as she starts placing hickeys onto you. Each suck onto your skin makes your body jolt and cunt pulse with arousal. 

Her lips begin to trail down to your collarbone. Sevika doesn’t rush in her path and it makes you shiver. She lets out a low growl as she hears you moan and places hickeys against your skin. Your breasts are all she can focus on, taking mouthful after mouthful of your softness into her mouth. Sucking marks not even an inch apart then kissing them over. She tweaks your nipples every now and again, getting all her favorite reactions from you. 

“Sevika,” you groan. She separates from your breast, looking up to see your eyes pleading with her for more. You push her head down, trying to shove her between your legs. Well, Sevika is less shoved and more following your directions, allowing you to think you have the strength to move her. 

She settles between your thighs, turning her head away from where you want it. You had no clue that asking her to push your limits would translate to teasing but you trusted she knew what she was doing. 

She kisses the inside of your thighs, which are quivering with want. Every time she gets close enough to your entrance, her lips move away. She switches back and forth between your right and left thigh, working the stimulation up before she devours you.  

“You are a treasure,” she sighs against your inner thigh, her breath tickles your heated skin. 

Sevika ceases her teasing, parting your folds with her tongue. Each stroke pushes heavy moans out your mouth. Sevika can't think of anything better than this. You filled all her senses. Your taste on her tongue and musk filling her nose. Your thighs squeezing her head. Your pubic hairs tickled her nose and some stuck in her mouth. Your desperate pleas above her for more are the sweetest sound she'll ever hear. Your beautiful eyes are blinking down at her, fighting to stay open as she slips two fingers into you. 

“Please please fuck.. Sevika,” you whine as her fingers begin to fuck you. 

Her movements are stronger and more forceful than last night and your cunt is grateful, drooling onto her in appreciation. She's attuned to every twitch of your muscles, adjusting to each little reaction, desperate to please. When your cunt squeezes her fingers, she strokes your sweet spot faster to make you clench harder. You grip a fistful of her hair to tug it and she groans against you. The sharp pain is fuel to her desire. 

It's brutish by Sevika's standards, how she locks her mouth onto your clit to suck on it while driving her fingers into you. She's learned the exact pressure you need to cum and she goes over that limit. Sevika reaches a rhythm, tending to your clit with an earned amount of knowledge. You rock your hips toward her, desperate for more of her ferocity. 

Her fingers will not slow down until you've cum and you don't have far to go. You don't hear that her moans turned into growls, resounding from deep in her throat. She's ready for you to fall apart, pouring herself entirely into pleasuring you. You clench around her again and she increases the pressure on your g-spot. 

Your orgasm is slow, it spreads across your body from where the concentration is highest. Your body is a conduit, dispersing the heat until you're covered in its comfort. All her teasing proves it's worth, making your orgasm plateau higher than usual. She removes her fingers and mouth from you when your orgasm is through. 

“Be right back, hon,” she says, giving you a quick kiss then leaves the bed to retrieve a couple items. She finds her hat on the floor, discarded from last night. She sets it onto her head and you giggle at your sweet outlaw. She retrieves her strap-on and steps into the harness. 

“Don't ever wake me up from this dream,” you sigh, watching her tighten the straps onto her hips. Sevika is almost too perfect to be true, so handsome and pretty and charming. 

“Sugar, I'm starting to think this is my dream,” she admists, appreciating the vision of loveliness laying on her bed. She joins you on the bed, covering your body with hers. 

“This is the only thing I'll ask you for. If I'm making you feel good, please tell me. If you're lovin’ how I make you feel… Can you bite me, scratch me, or pull my hair? And if you hate the idea, just say no,” she offers. If she is going to be rough with you, you have full permission to be twice as rough back. Her fingers gather some of your cum dripping from your cunt, then spreads it over her dick.

“How hard? Don't wanna hurt my favorite cowboy.” 

“As hard as you need, sweetheart. You ain't gon’ harm me,” she confirms. Sevika shifts her hips and the firm tip of her dick pressed against your slit. She pushes in at a comfortable speed, watching your cunt swallow her inch by inch. The feeling of her entering takes your breath.

“Breathe, darlin’,” she encourages, and you force your chest to fill with air. 

When you've taken a couple healthy breaths she starts her thrusts. She goes at a comfortable pace, fucking her entire length into you with pauses between each push. You wrap your legs around her hips and pull her entirely into you. 

“Not to question your methods but I'm ready for you to ruin me. Push my limits,” you permit, allowing her freedom to fuck you roughly. 

“My apologies, I was wanin’ to find that limit before making a bastard of it.” 

She harshens her movement, fucking harder and faster. Nowhere near her full strength but you wouldn't know the difference at the moment. You could only let out choked gasps as she thrusted into you, somehow pushing even deeper than before. Each stroke was hard and precise, her dick insistent with every plunge into you. You’re looking at her wide-eyed while she fucks you and she loves it. Loves how your eyes just plead for more as she ruins you. Sevika feels all your pleasure heat her body. It brought her pleasure. 

“You make me feel so good,” she groans, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Fuck, f-fuck… you feel s'good,” you try to echo but your words are stuttered.

Sevika is overwhelmed with the need to be sweet to you, it's who she is. She's a proper gentlewoman but she also needs to fulfill your wants. She keeps her harsh pace but kisses you gently on the cheek, whispering sweet nothings into your skin. 

“I could stay here forever with you. Nothing else exists right now.” 

Another kiss to your cheek paired with a particularly hard thrust. 

“You're like a dream come true.”

More kisses to your cheek and her mechanical hand reaches down to swipe your clit. 

“You're beautiful, absolutely beautiful.” 

Her kisses shift to your tightly shut eyelids and her hand works circles over your clit. 

“Sev! Keep fucking me! Keep fucking me!” you chant, close from her relentless fucking and sweet words. 

In losing your mind to her fucking you, you forgot that she asked you to bite her if you love how she makes you feel. You turn your head to wrap your teeth around any flesh you can find. You experimentally bite at her jaw, hard enough to feel the flesh give. 

“Harder,” Sevika whimpers, her voice is like you've never heard it before. It's light and airy as she breathes out the request. You bite harder onto her and her moan comes from deep within her, probably the deepest you've ever heard from her. Knowing you did that to her pushes you from close to right on the edge. One more thrust from her and you're falling. You move your mouth from her jaw to her neck, needing more flesh to anchor into. You don't think about how hard you're biting her, only that you're communicating your orgasm through it. 

“Shit! I'm cumming. You're making me fucking cum,” she wails, her hips are stuttering and breaking their pace. A few more thrusts and her body goes limp atop yours. She's crushing you but it's the best feeling in the world. It's the most you've felt of her and you still need more. You recover before she does, stroking her cheek from where her head rests by yours. 

“I need you closer,” you whisper to her. 

“Don't see how I can get any closer, sugar,” she mumbles, still not recovered from her orgasm. 

“I need you so close. Want you to crawl inside my chest and lay down right next to my heart. I need you that close,” you tell her. It might be a bit grotesque and odd but you mean it. She's never going to be close enough to you. Even with her still buried inside you and her weight pressing you into the bed, she'll never be close enough. 

taglist

@archangeldyke-all   @geewillikers80085  @maneskinwh0re  @sevikellsss

divider by @cafekitsune

[munsonify]

good morning kiss

pairing. eddie munson x fem!reader

summary. after endless attempts to try and wake you up, eddie’s kisses are finally what make your eyes open up

genre. fluff

warning/s. pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart), reference to being “his girl” and a “sleeping beauty”, she/her pronouns, kissing, slight allusions to sex (in past memory)

authors note. i’m so sorry if the pov is weird in this?? i tried writing this differently than i usually write my fics, so i think i might’ve been switching between past and present tense. anyways i hope you guys like this!!

word count. 529

disney princess collection

you look so peaceful. your eyes rest closed, body slumped into eddie’s bed. even in one of his ratty old kiss t-shirts and your cheek pressed against his floppy pillow, you look so beautiful.

it’s late april, sunlight spilling in through the window, catching his dusty blinds to cast shadows against his blankets. only glimpses of you illuminated - your right eyelashes, the bridge of your nose, one corner of your mouth that twitches ever so slightly in your sleep.

as much as eddie loves admiring you (with his distaste for interrupting your peace much stronger), you two had only 30 minutes to get ready for school. with a soft smile, eddie’s hand gently squeezes at your hip, shaking you with care. he knows you never wake from the first few shakes.

two more gentle shakes go by before he starts tracing his fingers beneath your his shirt. eddie’s voice, though a little gravelly, whispers softly into your ear, trying to ease you awake the best he can.

“gotta wake up sweetheart, don’t want you late again this week.”

you had two very logical explanations as to why you were late two times already this week. you spent monday morning preoccupied with the way eddie’s hand felt on your thigh on the drive to school. completely not your fault.

as for your second tardy, tuesday morning, you spent twenty minutes helping eddie replace the flat tire on your car. he insisted that it couldn’t wait, and that you need reliable transportation outside of himself. as if he’d ever say no to giving his girl a ride.

eddie still failed to wake you. your back was turned to him, though he could still see some of your face. the corner of your lip twitches again, but this time it looked somewhat like a smile to him.

with raised eyebrows, eddie pushes his weight up and over top of you to get a better look of your face. his fingers find their way to your tummy now, softly feeling your skin. he desperately wants you to keep resting. everything in him tells him to let you be. eddie, however, knew he’d feel guilty letting you be late again.

“c’mon sweetheart,” he whines softly, watching as your eyelashes flutter ever so slightly. you’re faking being asleep. with a wide grin plastered onto his face, eddie decides to play into it. his fingers begin to dance against the ticklish spots on your skin. still, you force yourself to stay ‘asleep’.

“what’s a guy gotta do to get his sleeping beauty to awaken?” that’s when it dawns on him. a kiss. the hand that was once on your tummy reaches up to your cheeks, smushing them together gently.

only a few seconds later was your cheek greeted with a big, wet kiss. quiet giggles erupt from your chest, slowly twisting in eddie’s arms to face his direction. in between your giggles, you can hear him whisper “she has risen”.

he un-smushes your cheeks for just a second, giggling along with you as you speak quietly. “i think your sleeping beauty needs one last kiss on the lips to seal the deal.”

“anything for my princess.”

———

taglist. @songbirdofthenight

[cottoncalicoes]

But I’ll wait for you

- Eren Yeager x AFAB!Reader • Word Count: 1.0k -

content warnings: cunnilingus, eren is extremely disgustingly in love with you, tried to keep it as gn as possible but he does refer to reader as “my girl” one time so there’s that. so pissed off i wrote this he doesn’t deserve a banner. don’t even look at me or say anything. hate this man.

Eren’s purposeful in everything he does; but there’s a certain reverence he exudes when it comes to you. Every touch, every word, every kiss, hug, fuck. You’re a gift sent from above, and what is he if not your humble admirer.

His eyes never stray far from you. It was almost intimidating at the beginning of your relationship. The way he looks for you in everything he sees. It’s normal to you now, to be in a crowded room only to search for a sea already submerged in you. He always winks cheekily at you, never breaking contact even when you do. He’s all encompassing. Always near.

“Angel.”

Despite his hushed tone you still jump at the sound, snapping your book shut before looking at him.

“Eren,” your hand rests on your chest to still your beating heart, “you scared me.”

“M sorry, baby,” he apologizes (though you both know he isn’t truly sorry).

He pulls his clothes off to join you in bed, tossing them on the floor before he feels your pointed stare and picks them up to toss in the laundry bin.

“How was your night?”

He groans, pushing your book away (pouting when you laugh at his childishness).

“It was alright, missed you the whole time.”

He nudges his head against your hand in a silent command to run your fingers through the dark tresses, humming in contentment when you scratch at his scalp.

“You saw me two hours ago, spent all day with me. Need I remind you,” your fingers twist absentmindedly at the band holding his hair up, setting it to the side so you can comb out the knots.

“Don’t care,” he mumbles into your stomach petulantly, “would have rather been here doing this.”

You roll your eyes at his words, caressing his cheek.

“Don’t say that,” you chide, “you know you love Armin and the rest of them.”

“You’re always so soft on him.”

You laugh at his words, though he says you’re terrible for it, you love to tease him most when he’s like this.

“Have you seen him? How could I not. He’s a little angel.”

As expected he pouts at your words, biting at your side in retaliation.

“Take it back.”

“Fine,” you relent (easily, as you always do with him), “I take it back.”

Baby fat still clings to his cheeks despite the way the rest of him toned out; harsh edges and rippled muscle. It used to bother him until you told him how much you’d loved it (how much it reminded him of when you were both young; snot nosed kids digging into the dirt, screams of joy falling from your lips when you’d chase him with worms to make him squeal).

“Let me taste you.”

You huff at his words, putting up a front though you’ll know he’ll get his way. He always does, always has. You used to make fun of him when you were young about how spoilt he was, despite it all you couldn’t deny your enabling. How could you not when his plush lips pouted down at you?

“I have work in the morning, Eren.”

He pulls away from your warmth with a whine, and you do little to stop him when he maneuvers you the way he likes.

“The skies blue, the leaves are green, and I want to make you cum.”

“Eren.”

“Sorry, are we done listing obvious things?”

You laugh loudly at his words, and pride soars throughout his body.

“Technically the sky is black right now. It’s nearly one in the morning.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes at you, huffing at your difficulty before your panties are shucked across the room.

“Trying to play coy when your cunt is dripping for me right now,” he says with a smirk as he spreads your legs, “naughty thing.”

You open your mouth to quip back at him, but it gets caught in your throat when his tongue runs up your heat from root to stem, sucking your clit in his mouth before pulling off with lewd pop.

“You’re my girl aren’t you?”

You nod quickly at his words, hands grasping at his hair as he descends on you again.

“Say it,” he demands, “say you’re my girl.”

“I’m your girl, Eren.”

“Then let me make you cum for me.”

You know Eren’s obsession with eating you out is more for him than you, always waiting to get his fill before he focuses and makes you cum the way you like.

Eren groans into your heat when your thighs snap closed against his face, his hands moving to paw at your chest. Practiced movements having you crying out for him, hips bucking into his touch when his tongue fucks into your dripping heat.

It never takes long when he has you like this. Soft, pliant. Wrapped in his shirt with the smell of him encasing you; his mark littered across you in every way he can imagine.

“Don’t hold back, angel,” he pinches at your nipples, grinding himself into the bed below, “cum for me, let me have it.”

Eren loves everything about you; from the way you add hearts to your i’s to the scrunch of your face when you’re angry. But the sound of his name falling from your lips when you fall apart for him has to be one of his favorites. You gasp and whine and plead (though there’s no need really, he’d give you the world and more if only you’d ask).

A cry of his name and you’re cumming on his tongue; hips bucking wildly to chase the friction.

He laps at your release until he’s had his fill, dopey eyes staring up at you from where he rests between your thighs.

Your chest heaves with labored breaths, hands covering your eyes as you return to him.

“You’re insane.”

“I am,” he agrees easily, “but that’s what you love about me, right?”

He already knows your answer, but you appease him nonetheless.

“Yeah, it is.”

a/n: just. don’t. i’m so embarrassed rn i hate him im so pissed that i want him rn you don’t understand.

[solsticescribe]

Simon Riley x reader one-shot

Simon came home from a long deployment last night. You had no idea where he was during that time or what happened, you knew you were not supposed to know anything. You were just glad that he was back and safe.

After a great struggle of getting out of his hold this morning, you started unpacking his bag that he left on the floor right in the middle of the hallway (he was too busy thinking about getting into bed with you to care about where he left his stuff).

As you took out his dirty clothes, you noticed what looked like a plastic bag on the bottom. After starting the washing machine and getting the rest of his stuff out, you took the beige package into your hands to examine it.

What you were currently holding in your hand was an MRE. You’ve seen people all over Tiktok reviewing these meals and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about what they were like. Looks like this could be your chance to find out.

As you were examining the packet, you felt two bulky arms wrap around you and a face nuzzling your neck. “Mhh morning love” You heard Simon’s voice grumbling, still heavy with sleep. “Morning. Isn’t a bit too early for you to be up? You should sleep some more” You kissed all over his face and neck where you could reach. Simon shook his head. “ ‘s not as good without you in bed” “Are you hungry by any chance? I have some breakfast ready” You pointed to the pan sitting on the stove, his favorite breakfast, that you made earlier, just waiting to be heated up.

“Maybe later” He cupped your cheeks and pressed multiple little kisses to your lips. He had his eyes closed, fully emerged in the feeling of having you close to him and finally being able to love on you properly.

“What do you want to do with that?” He asked in between kisses, referring to the bag in your hands. He still had his eyes still closed and not showing any sign that he wishes to stop with the kisses.

“Well, can I try it? If you don’t need it” You held his face in your hands, stopping him so that you would have enough time to speak. “Whatever you want sweetheart. I was planning on throwing it out. Don’t expect anything gourmet though”

He left you at the counter to unbox everything from the MRE packet while he turned on the stove to heat up his breakfast.

Simon fixed himself a plate and sat next to you, watching your expression as you tried the different snacks and meal included in the bag. He smiled to himself, thinking about just how adorable you looked, eyes lighting up when trying things you liked and furrowing when you didn’t like something.

His own meal was soon forgotten, leaning on the countertop, he watched you fumble around with the small packets with a barely noticeable smile on his face. He found this quite amusing.

Trying the last thing included, you were disappointed by the blandness of it. You put everything in the bin and sat on Simon’s lap. “I’m sorry you have to eat that so often” You said while wrapping your arms around his neck. He just hummed, one arm around your waist to hold you closer, with the other, he held up a bite from his left-over breakfast to help wash away the taste in your mouth. You eagerly took the fork in your mouth. “Wanna know why isn’t it so bad?” He asked while preparing another bite for you “I know that I get to come home to you and your cooking. Makes it all worth it to keep you safe”

[gadriezmannsgirl]

Pepi's birthday fic!🪄🎩🍌 Pookie's 22 now🥹 still such a baby💛

Also, I inspired in my fic about Gavi loving neck kisses, I keep seeing how Pedri gives forehead kisses to his teammates, I can imagine him doing that to his gf😭 so here it is!

One more thing, referring to the picture below what is it need to do for Pedri to look at me like that? 😭😭😭

Forehead Kisses -PG8

Summary: He loves forehead kisses and so do you.

Since the very beggining of your relationship with Pedri, you quickly learned all his habits, manias, facts, likes, dislikes; for example when he scrunches his face in concentration and pulls out the tip of his tongue, when he's nervous he taps his fingers against his thigh, he secretly loves rom-com movies, he's reserved with his things, his people, including you and his life. You knew how to read every single bit of him.

In your relationship, he's the most perfect partner, barely forgets dates, always texts or calls you, he is interested in your things, he cares for you and for your family, he gets along with your friends, he loves communicating with you. He's just him.

When it's only the two of you or with his/your family around, nothing can stop him from being all over you, they know how he is and they know how in love with you he is. On the other hand, he's very reserved while being in public, going as far as a hand hold, a hand on the back of your seat, a hand on your thigh or a small kiss on your forehead. That could never be missed.

You've never told Pedri before but you knew he loved giving forehead kisses, not just to you but also to his teammates, his friends and family.

And you loved them as well, that much you sometimes started looking for them, pushing your forehead into him so he could lean down and press his lips in your temple. It never failed to make you feel loved and protected by him.

So one morning, you were chopping the vegetables as Rosy was doing the eggs when you hear a small "Buenos días" (Good morning) and soon Pedri came into the kitchen with his face a bit swollen and a sleepy face.

"Buenos días" He got his reply from you all as he went one by one hugging his brother, Fer first; then his dad, then his mom and then he walked over to you.

"Buenos días, amor" (Good morning, love) You say briefly looking up at him before grabbing an onion and start cutting it.

"Buen día, preciosa" (Morning, gorgeous) He mumbles, one of his arms wrapped around you as he hugs your side with his lips against your temple and staying there.

"Still feeling sleepy?" He nods humming and inhaling your shampoo scent "Why don't you go upstairs then, vida? I can go to you once breakfast it's ready" He shook his head

"You know I can't sleep without you in my arms" You smile softly before lifting your head, making him open his eyes and look down at you

"It'll be only for a few minutes" You whisper so it's just the two of you when he shakes his head -no- leaning once again to give your forehead a kiss and then he went a bit further down to your lips and kissed you softly. "Amor, go"

"You can go with him, Y/N/N" Fer says coming up to you "I can handle this"

"No, don't worry. I'm almost done"

"Go, hija" Rosy spoke up "You must be tired as well, you just came from a flight a few hours ago"

"I'm good, I promise. Let me just finish this"

"Hijo" (Son) Fernando said looking at Pedri, who just chuckled and grabbed you by the back of your thighs

You dropped the knife and the onion in the counter, letting a small yell out "¡Ahh Pedri! Fernando, Rosy; I want to help!"

"You already helped us, bonita" (Pretty) Fernando said

"But I love doing that type of salad, please!"

"I'll do it" Fer smiled

"Make sure to add mustard and a bit of sugar, please!" You raise your voice as Pedri pulled the two of you out of the kitchen "You're mean"

"I just want my girlfriend, too much to ask?"

"No" You kissed his cheek "You were going to have me after helping your parents, now they'll think bad of me"

"Preciosa, we've been together for almost three years now, they absolutely love you, they could never think bad of you" Pedri opened the door to his room, letting you in and closing the door on him "You're their daughter, now" He said now on the bed, covering the both of you with the blankets.

"Is my food that bad?" You ask

"Nena" (Baby) "Stop that. They absolutely love and adore you and your skills" He said dropping a kiss to your temple.

You smiled "Wanna know something?" You whisper

"What's up?"

"I really love you giving me forehead Kisses. They're my favorite" You say feeling your cheeks grow red

"Are they?" You nod embarrassed hiding your face into his neck. You feel and hear Pedri's giggle "Don't be embarrassed"

"Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm not! I just think you're way too cute" He kissed your temple one more time

"Pedriiii" You whine

"Wanna know something too?" He pulls his face away, so you're looking straight into his big brown eyes

"What?"

"I love giving you forehead kisses" He smiles "They're my favorite type of kiss too" You smile at him, both of you lean in and soon your lips meet in a slow, loving kiss. "I love you"

"I love you too, Pepi"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviymarcsbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela (if you'd like to be tagged, let me know!) also @luvgavii 🫶🏻✨ a small birthday gift, hope you like it!

[grogusmum]

Rules: write a story [300-1000 words] based on this moodboard. You don't need to include every aspect of it, but there must be a reference to at least 2 pictures besides JOEL [who is our PP boy for this challenge]. It can be any genre, smut/no smut, everything is up to you. Write, edit and post your work [you can use the moodboard or text me and i'll send you the pics from it that inspired you to make your own cover for your fic] and tag me in it.

@iamasaddie

I'm sorry I'm late. This was written in my drafts on my phone 😬 but it's done, so I'm yeeting out there...

Let's visit with Joel and Catnip again, shall we...

Please Mister Please

Apple Pie

JOEL MILLER X F!READER

WARNING: 18+ a little truck bed sex

Evenings under the stars in the gazebo became a regular thing, as did finding little moments to "mess around", as Joel liked to put it...

Joel will do whatever the community needs of him, he will go on patrol, he'll peel potatoes, he'll bring the sheep in (he enjoys this one a far bit).

Today, he's returning from a run. It's one of the few things he looks at Tommy with eyes saying, if there isn't any one else.

Whether it reminds him of his old life, or he worries more about not getting back to Ellie and you, you're not sure... maybe a bit of both. But if you've ever seen him drive through the gate, you'd see his shoulders go down an inch, his jaw loosen, and the crinkle between his brows- well that stays resolutely in place except in his most peaceful sleeps.

He does the same thing every time he gets back. He radios Tommy, checks on Ellie, and then finds you, his Catnip. He'll pull up to your shop or cabin, "your song" playing on the old tapedeck of the Bronco.

"Hey there, how'd it go"

"Fine, fine..." Joel looks at you, drinking you in. "Go fer a ride?"

You smile and put the "back in a few" sign on the door and hop in.

"You know," you say as he takes your hand. "They send you because you're good at it. And they trust you to bring back whomever goes with you. "

"I know" he sighs.

"What are we doin?"

"Wanna mess around?" His eyes slide to yours, his mouth quirking a naughty smile. Then it widens at your returning smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief.

He parks the truck in an out of the way spot camouflaged by trees.

Joel pulls some blankets out of the back and winks as he hauls himself out of the truck.

"You planned this before going on your run?" You wonder in disbelief as he opens your door (you have learned to wait for him, after he near pouted at you not letting him "treat you right".)

"It's the carrot," Joel says matter of factly, "keeps me goin"

"Ellie keeps you going."

Yeah, but she's a teenager," he sighs, " sometimes I can't tell if she's the carrot or the stick."

"Joel!" You admonish can't keep the laughter out of your scolding.

***

Joel's large palm glides up your now bare torso, coming to rest at the swell of your breast. Your fingers play at his bare chest, tracing patterns. His broad shoulders casting you in shadow. His eyes trained on your lips, slowly rise to meet yours. Soft and warm, full of all he can't quite find the words for.

Thank you for loving me despite my brokenness.

I will work every day to derserve it

The kisses are slow and unhurried. You can feel him against your leg while he presses, slowly grinding, this too lazy and almost without a goal.

"Feels good," he rumbles in your ear, "soft."

You roll on top, slipping together like puzzle pieces.

"Hi."

"Hello, darlin"

You kiss his lips, his nose and eyelids, while he nips at the underside of your chin. Trying to convey what he can't hear

I've got my cracks, too

You deserve good things, Joel

A deep rumble escapes Joel, as you press your center against him. Eyes closed, you move against each other with growing need. Your secret sighs and moans heared only by the birds, how bright and wet Joel's eyes are is guarded by the trees standing silent sentry.

THANK YOU FOR READING 💚

Your comments and reblogs are so appreciated. If you care to read more of my writing, click the link to my masterlist, and if you'd like to join my taglist, click this link

[darkkitty1208]

@ra-con-teur asked:

Thank you for the prompt, lovely! 💖 I went sort of loose with this one, hope you don’t mind! Also, to others: I tend to have prompts be sent through the ask box! :D This one’s fine though :P

The biggest, fattest, juiciest thank yous to @janora00 the absolute SAINT for reading this over for me and helping spot mistakes/tweaking bits. Oh, and for somehow convincing me this work isn't shit. I love you, babes.

handle with care

Summary:

Reigen has a bad day. Luckily for him, Serizawa's there to sort him out.

Word count: 2,512

Tags/Warnings: References to Depression, Reigen Arataka Has ADHD, Trans Reigen Arataka, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Smoking

AO3

It hits Reigen immediately when he wakes up that day. A tightness in his throat, the taste of dread thick on his tongue. There's a kind of heaviness weighing on his chest, keeping his limbs pinned down onto the mattress.

Reigen heaves a heavy sigh. He catches movement to his side, the sound of rustling sheets. He turns to look.

Serizawa's shuffled closer, chest rising and falling in steady breaths as he continues to sleep. Reigen feels his lips tug in a fond smile at the sight—he could get used to waking up with a warm body pressed to his side like this. He turns back over, however, not wanting to disturb the man.

The clock on his nightstand reads a blinking 6:07. Of course, his inner alarm clock has decided to wake him up bright and early on a weekend of all days. It doesn't help that he's already feeling the start of a headache building tension in his temples.

He rises to sit upright slowly, movements deliberate as he tries making as minimal sound as possible, eyeing Serizawa all the while to make sure he doesn't accidentally wake him up. They've had a rough week; Serizawa deserves the rest.

The cold of the floorboards shake off the rest of his drowsiness away when his feet swing gently off the bed to meet it. The blanket slips away from his—now that he's realised—completely bare torso and the springs of the old mattress creaks at him as he lifts his weight off of it to trudge quietly into the bathroom.

He makes quick business emptying his bladder, and less quicker business washing his hands. And then he takes a moment to just stand there, staring at his reflection. Sandy blonde hair ruffled in every direction, darker roots beginning to show. He hopes the pallor has to do with the unflattering lighting of the bathroom's fluorescents; he knows, at least, that the shadows are. The dark rings under his eyes, though, are unmistakable.

He scowls at it.

His eyes trail down to his torso. They fix themselves on the two, crescent marks under his chest. He lifts a finger, drags a nail lightly over the skin. It sends a twinge of nothing up his nerves.

He looks further down, to the slight pudge around his stomach, pokes it a bit.

The light above him buzzes horribly, adding to the steady pounding in his head. It hums its way down around his nape, settles there heavily.

He picks up his toothbrush, squeezes some paste onto it, scrubs it against his teeth mechanically.

The buzzing overhead only grows louder.

Days like this don't come as often as they used to. He’s used to dealing with them on his own, really. Most days they’re easy to ignore; shoving the build of something tense in his chest by forcing his best customer service grin on his face, blaming the slight quiver of his fingers on too much coffee, chalking up the slight shortness of breath on years of habitual smoking finally catching up to him.

Reigen knows how to handle himself well. 

But it’s on days like this, where there aren’t any clients to perform for or stacks of paperwork to fill or walls of text in his email inbox taking up his screen begging to be answered, that Reigen lets himself slip between the cracks. It’s in moments like this, as he takes another drag out of his cigarette, feeling the sun kissing the bits of skin not covered by Serizawa’s shirt he snagged from the closet as he stands in the balcony, that he lets himself unfurl; lays himself bare to pick at the delicate parts. 

The nicotine doesn’t give him the right kind of rush it did in the past, dulled into the numbness that it is, but it takes some of the edge off. 

He watches the smoke disperse into the steadily brightening sky. The clouds roll ahead to a destination only they know. He leans forward on the railing, watches the city as it wakes up, the hustle and bustle beginning to sound itself into the air. The tinkle of a bell from the bakery a couple blocks down, their employee arriving for opening time. The absent swoosh of tires from the cars passing along the street. The distant rumbling of a train from the nearest station, which he knows is filled with bleary-eyed people commuting god-knows-where on a weekend like this. 

And him, standing uselessly on his balcony overlooking the view of life unfolding before him as the sun greets the sky a good morning, as if mocking his sour mood.

He turns to the steaming coffee he let cool on the small table he keeps at the corner, an ashtray resting beside it with dry flakes of cigarette residue marking the clear, glass base a darkening grey. He lifts the cup, ignores the slight tremble, takes a sip. He places it back down with a clink. 

He hears the sound of the balcony door sliding open just as he turns back to watch the streets below. He hears more than sees Serizawa shuffling quietly forward, slumping onto his back to hook a chin over his shoulder. His arms reach to wrap securely around his waist. 

Reigen lets Serizawa’s heat—he naturally runs warm, is a fact he’s come to find delight in—seep into his bones. He closes his eyes, letting the morning air finally wrap around him when he had been too occupied by his own thoughts. 

"You're smoking," Serizawa points out after a while, voice gruff with the lingering bits of sleep. Reigen can feel the way it vibrates against his shoulder, down his back. He flicks the dust off his cigarette, watches it fall from a height. 

He hums. "Yeah," he says, "I am."

Serizawa's head shifts where he lays it on his shoulder; probably to avoid the hard jut of his bone there.

"You said you quit."

Reigen leans his weight back into Serizawa, who somehow still holds himself steady on his feet. "Yeah," he says, and his voice feels a little far away. He looks down at the cigarette, held between his index and middle fingers. "I did, did I?"

They lapse into silence at that. Usually silence doesn't work well with Reigen—he always needs some sort of stimuli, something to keep him talking, moving, doing. Silence compels him to fill it. To keep himself from being left with his own devices that are his thoughts.

Now, though, Reigen lets the silence settle over them, broken only by the occasional swoosh of tires or chirps of birdsong. 

It's Serizawa who eventually speaks up again.

"Something on your mind?" he asks conversationally. Something about the way he says it reminds Reigen of himself—he wonders if Serizawa picked that up from him. Sometimes he indulges and thinks Serizawa picked up plenty of things from him.

"You know. Just..." He takes another drag, just to have something to do with himself, blows it out slowly. "stuff."

"Stuff?"

He hums. "Stuff."

"Ah." Serizawa's hold around him tightens minutely before relaxing again. It feels firmer than it did before, though. "It's one of those days, huh?"

Reigen finds himself cracking a small, private smile at that. How is it that Serizawa knows him so well?

He hums again. What more is there to say to that?

The silence stretches a little longer this time.

"We should make breakfast," Serizawa suggests, being the breaker of the silence once again.

"I thought you said you weren't the breakfast kind of guy?" And it's true—Serizawa mentioned once about not being able to eat immediately after waking up. He'd need a couple hours before being able to consume anything.

"Well..." He feels Serizawa's head loll slightly to the side, "you are," he says, simply. "And, um, this—" He gestures at the health hazard concoction and equivalent of a death wish that is his coffee and cigarette, "doesn't exactly count as breakfast, Reigen." His hand returns in its spot on his waist. And then lower, "and I know you don't like eating without company." And as if that isn't enough to make his heart swell... "Let me make you breakfast. I want to.” 

He presses back, closer. Greedy. The late November air that previously bit into his skin melts away. 

“I think we still have some eggs in the fridge,” Serizawa muses, “I can have tea, first."

Reigen turns his head slightly to meet Serizawa's eyes. He wants to say thank you, maybe I don't deserve you, and if he were a little more daring, maybe even an I love you, you know that? but as it stands, Reigen Arataka is a right, darn coward. Instead he settles for, "We... really need to go grocery shopping, huh?"

Serizawa chuckles at that, low and reverberating and slightly surprised. “Yeah, probably,” and then a grimace. “Definitely. We do.” 

Reigen chuckles back, and some of that tension in his head ebbs away. 

“Let’s get back inside?” Serizawa tilts it up at the end in his delivery to make it sound more like a question. 

“Sure. But let me just finish this—” 

His cigarette floats out of his fingers, leaving a gentle static buzz on his skin that he easily identifies as Serizawa’s aura, and the butt is quickly stubbed onto the ashtray. 

“Hey!” Reigen says, with no real bite. Serizawa gives him an apologetic smile, but there’s a hint of playfulness to it. 

“Sorry. Shall we go back inside now?” 

Reigen knows he isn’t really sorry. He rolls his eyes, but smiles back anyway. “Fine. Let’s.” 

Reigen watches as Serizawa patters about the kitchen. It’s not usual that they bother to cook on the weekends, usually relying on their usual takeout orders, but Reigen can never refuse a homemade meal. Even if said meal seemed to be plain eggs. 

He doesn’t have much of an appetite currently, but he knows Serizawa wouldn’t have that. So Reigen sits, waits, watches. He feels a little useless. 

It doesn’t take long for the restlessness to push him to his feet. He sidles up Serizawa’s side, not really knowing what to do with himself. Serizawa flashes him a quick smile before turning back to seasoning the sizzling eggs. 

He hooks a chin over Serizawa’s shoulder. When he doesn’t say anything, Reigen deliberately drapes himself over his back, wrapping him in a hug from behind like Serizawa gave him in the balcony. 

He’s probably being less helpful now than he was before, but Serizawa doesn’t seem to complain. So he stays. 

Serizawa hums for a moment, using the spatula to check if the eggs’ undersides are cooked so he can flip them over. They aren’t. 

He sets the spatula on a clean surface, tries to find Reigen’s hand that rests on his hip. He lays a palm above his hand, holding gently. 

“So,” Serizawa says, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. “Do you… need to talk?” 

Reigen considers it for a moment, stares ahead at nothing in particular. Something about this angle—the way it conceals his face—makes him feel… brave. 

“What is there to talk about?” he mutters, “I… wake up. I feel—” he gestures vaguely at himself with a free hand, “like this. That’s all there is to it, you know?” 

Serizawa, ever eternally patient, just hums. 

“Does this… happen often?” 

Reigen bites the inside of his cheek, feels the sting. He releases it. It turns into a dull ache. “Usually when winter rolls around,” he says, and it’s the truth. Winter meant the days would blur together, time would lose meaning, that haze would settle into his head to cloud his days over with something dull and empty. “It’s…” He sucks in a breath. “It’s ridiculous, you know? I didn’t even— nothing could have triggered this. I…” 

“Hey,” Serizawa admonishes him softly, “Hey, now. Arataka,” His thumb swipes softly again, halting to squeeze his hand. “none of that. It’s not ridiculous. Everybody has bad days.” 

“I know,” he says, “I know. It’s just that I…” 

There he goes, going all wistful again. 

“I just…” he shrugs, looks down at the floor. He huffs at himself. “I have you now, ‘Tsuya. And all the others. The kids, the office, hell, even Dimple. Everything’s— everything’s going well,” he says, “So, so well.” So well he doesn’t know what he’d done to ever deserve all this, if he ever did. He pulls away from the hug for a moment, eyes still on the floor. “So I don’t know why I still… I—” Serizawa squeezes his hand tighter, turns around to face him, and when Reigen sends him an appreciative look, he catches a glance at the soft gaze in his eyes. It’s almost too much for him. “I… should be more grateful, you know? For all this.” For you, goes unspoken, like many things he keeps behind clenched teeth, behind lips sealed from truth and vulnerability, too accustomed to the poison of deception. 

His shoulders slump. Something like exhaustion bleeds into him. He hasn’t even done anything. 

“I think it would help…” Serizawa says, gently, “if you maybe try counseling.” 

Reigen tilts his head with a frown. “...Me?” 

Reigen doesn’t seem like the type of person to need counseling. Serizawa, on the other hand, has been through rough patches in his life that take time to heal. It makes sense that he takes counseling. But him? 

Reigen’s just an average man. He has no tragic backstory to claim, no childhood trauma to justify himself with. He’s not the kind of man to need that sort of thing. 

“It helps to have someone… detached, to listen. Someone who isn’t, um, invested in your life. Or something like that,” he explains, “Someone impartial. Especially if they happen to be a professional who has all the tools to help you.” Serizawa seems to take a moment to arrange his words at this. “I… It helped me, anyway. Counseling. I have you, of course, and everyone else, and it’s… nice to have a support circle, but— you know. It helps. And— and I just…” Serizawa fixes him with a look so sincere it makes Reigen’s throat feel constricted. “I want to be there for you, ‘Taka. You just have to let me in. But I understand if you need… space. Not everyone’s ready for that sort of thing.” 

Reigen searches his face. And then he feels a smile bloom from his lips, even if it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, not daring to speak any louder. “I’ll— I’ll uh, consider it. Counseling, I mean.” 

Serizawa gives him one of those small, soft smiles he adores. Reigen feels his own wobble slightly, before stretching into something genuine. 

Days like this don't come as often as they used to. He’s used to dealing with them on his own, really. 

But, as he takes one look at Serizawa—

“Uh, wait. I think the eggs are burning.” 

—he realises, maybe, he doesn’t always have to deal with them alone. 

[solavita]

headlock (gojo satoru) — chapter four

pairing ; satoru gojo x fem!reader

words ; 6.0k

warning(s) ; mentions of corruption, enslavement, reader gets slapped, espionage

author's note ; this work will include dark themes like violence, enslavement, character death, psychological trauma, and references to torture. sexual content is also included. reader discretion is advised.

masterlist can be found here !

Shortly after packing up her things, Yui left, with a brief kiss to your cheek as a means of good luck. There was no mirror in your room, but you could only assume that you looked out of place. You exhaled slowly, hands brushing over the fabric of the dress she had chosen just for you. The deep green velvet dress hugged your sides, the cut modest enough to avoid drawing unwanted attention, but elegant enough to demand notice, with moderately tall heels clicking as you grabbed the bedframe in order to steady yourself. You hated the way that the shoes made you feel taller, more visible, every movement amplified. 

You thought back to Hana’s words. How she said not to trust anyone here, not even herself, and in turn, that extended to Yui. Were you to trust what she said about this man Kento? Or was this another deviously left trap you were about to find yourself in? And yet, what choice did you have? You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being dressed for a funeral — the question was whether it would be yours or not. 

Looking out the window, you let out a huff. The evening stretched ahead of you, the unknowns piling higher with each passing moment. Your chest felt tight as you thought about the dinner, the people who would be there, the conversations you would have to navigate, the lies you would have to tell. 

And Satoru. 

His presence lingered in your mind like a shadow you couldn’t shake, a threat that was as intoxicating as it was terrifying. He would be watching you tonight. You could feel it in the pit of your stomach, that sense of being under a microscope, every word, every gesture dissected. He would know if you faltered. 

You open the door and stepped outside, the cool air of the hallway brushing against your skin, a sharp contrast to the suffocating warmth you had grown accustomed to from your room. You barely had time to adjust to the dim light before your eyes landed on him. 

Satoru Gojo stood a few steps away, leaning casually against the wall. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but there was an unmistakable sharpness to his gaze that sent a shiver down your spine. He was dressed in fine clothing, the kind that suited someone of his status — a tailored black suit with subtle silver detailing along the lapels, his shirt collar unbuttoned just enough to lend an air of defiance to his otherwise polished appearance. The dark fabric contrasted starkly with his shock of white hair, which looked as though he’d spent precisely two seconds running a hand through before deciding it was good enough. 

He was scanning you through his black blindfold, not even bothering to hide the smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips. “Well,” he said, his tone casual, like someone who was on some type of date. “Don’t you clean up nicely? Nice to see you in something a little less coated with blood.” 

You bristled at his words, at the way he looked at you like you were some shiny new toy. But you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, your hands gripping the folds of your dress to keep them from trembling with fear. 

He saw right through it. 

“You nervous?” He asked, his voice dropping slightly. “Big night and all. Lots of important people watching. You probably haven’t been around this many people since Japan was a thing, or, wait, how many people were in the cell you were in again?” 

You met his gaze, forcing yourself to hold it, even as the weight of his words, his attention pressed down on you. “Why would I be nervous?” You asked, the words steadier than you would ever feel in this type of situation. “It’s just dinner, right?” 

“Exactly. Just dinner. Keep that in mind, and you might just enjoy yourself.” 

He extended an arm, and as much as it made you internally cringe to grab it, you did so without so much as a rolled eye. You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears, then, with one last deep breath, you stepped forward, your heels clicking against the polished floor as you moved past him. The closer you got to the sounds of talking, laughing, and the clinking of glasses, the more you could feel a sense of dread wash over your entire being. The grand hall loomed ahead, its tall, arched doors already cracked open, revealing a sort of golden slow. It was a life that promised warmth, elegance, and luxury — everything that was so sickeningly out of place in the world you knew lied beyond these walls. You glanced at the gilded carvings that adorned the walls, the intricate chandeliers hanging high above. Everything screamed wealth, power, and indulgence. 

It made you sick. 

Millions had died — men, women, children. Lives snuffed out in the name of the Republic, in the name of order, all for the sake of a vision built on power and control. Those people were gone now, scattered to the winds, or buried in unmarked graves. And you were here, dressed up in a fine green dress, playing the part they wanted you to play, even though you hadn’t even been put up onto television yet. It felt like a betrayal — a betrayal to everyone who had died believing that there was a way out of this nightmare. 

“Thinking too much, sweetheart?” Gojo’s voice cut through your thoughts, his tone light, almost amused. He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the tension in your expression. You forced yourself to take a breath, to unclench your jaw, to smooth out the lines that had formed between your brows. “Just admiring the decor,” you said, the words laced with sarcasm you didn’t bother to hide.

Gojo chuckled, his smile widening, though there was something darker behind it—something that said he knew exactly what you were thinking. “It is something, isn’t it?” he said, his voice carrying a note of mock appreciation. “All this opulence, all this grandeur. Makes you wonder what it’s all really for.” You didn’t respond, your gaze fixed ahead as you approached the grand hall’s entrance. The double doors stood tall and imposing, the gold accents shimmering in the light. You could hear the laughter more clearly now, the sounds of people enjoying themselves, unaware—or perhaps uncaring—of the suffering outside these walls.

Gojo’s hand brushed against your arm, a light touch meant to guide you, but it felt more like a reminder of who was in control. You looked up at him, his smirk still in place, and for a moment, you thought you saw something else in his eyes—something almost like understanding. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that same infuriating confidence.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice softening, though the challenge was still there, lingering just beneath the surface.

You nodded, though you weren’t sure if it was true. You weren’t ready. You would never be ready for this—this charade, this lie you had to live. But you didn’t have a choice. Not if you wanted to survive. Not if you wanted to help those who still believed in something better. 

Gojo pushed the doors open, the warm light spilling out into the corridor, washing over you in a wave of heat. The laughter grew louder, the voices merging into a cacophony that made your head spin. You took a deep breath, squaring your shoulders, forcing a smile that you knew didn’t reach your eyes. The grand hall welcomed you, the faces turning to look, the smiles widening, the laughter continuing.

The guests were exactly as you’d imagined them—men and women draped in finery, their laughter too loud, their smiles too wide. They sipped from crystal glasses filled with deep red wine, their conversations laced with arrogance and self-satisfaction. These were the people who thrived in this new world, who had taken everything and given nothing back. They were comfortable, complacent, and utterly oblivious to the blood that had paved their way here. Gojo slowed his pace as a man approached, his uniform adorned with medals that gleamed under the chandelier’s light. He greeted Gojo with a firm handshake, his voice booming as he praised the successes of the Republic.

“Satoru,” the man said, his smile wide. “Always a pleasure to see you. And this must be your guest for the evening?”

Gojo turned to you, his hand resting lightly on your lower back. The touch was subtle but firm, grounding you as much as it was a signal to stay in place. “Indeed,” he said smoothly, his tone light. “Allow me to introduce our new addition to the fold. She’s adjusting well.”

The man’s eyes swept over you, his gaze lingering a moment too long. You fought the urge to look away, forcing a polite smile that felt like a mask. “Welcome,” he said, his tone patronizing. “It’s good to see another face embracing the future we’ve built.”

You nodded, the bile rising in your throat. “Thank you,” you said, the words hollow but necessary. 

He turned back to Gojo, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “These newcomers don’t know how fortunate they are, do they? To be part of a new era, to witness the rise of true order. The Republic of Shōkan has brought us to heights we could only dream of before.” He gestured broadly, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. “Look at what we’ve accomplished! Peace, unity. The weak have been weeded out, and now only the strong remain. It’s survival of the fittest, the way it was always meant to be.” 

You swallowed hard, the words twisting like a knife in your gut. You wanted to scream at him, to tell him of the cost of their so-called peace—the blood, the suffering, the lives they had destroyed for their vision of power. But instead, you forced your lips to remain in that tight, polite smile, your gaze drifting to the floor as your nails dug into your palm

Gojo must have noticed the tension in your posture, because his grip on your back tightened just a fraction, his voice cutting in smoothly. “Minister Tanaka always knows how to put things into perspective,” he said, his tone lightly mocking, though it seemed to go unnoticed by the older man.

Tanaka beamed, clearly pleased with himself. “It’s true! And we’re just getting started. Once Japan is fully secured, we can begin expanding our influence even further. Imagine—a world united under the Republic’s vision!” He looked at you then, his smile widening. “You’re young. You’ll get to see it all—this world we’re building. The Republic will shape the future, and you should feel honored to be part of it.”

“Of course,” you said, the words like ash on your tongue. “It’s… an honor.”

Tanaka clapped a hand on Gojo’s shoulder, his laughter echoing through the grand hall. “You’ve got her well-trained, Gojo! It’s good to see the young ones understanding their place.” He gave you one last, lingering look before turning away, disappearing into the crowd, his laughter still ringing in your ears. 

You exhaled slowly, your chest tight, the smile slipping from your face as you turned to Gojo. His eyes were already on you, his expression unreadable, though his grip on you loosened slightly. “Good job,” he murmured, his voice so low only you could hear. “You played your part well.”

You didn’t respond, your gaze fixed ahead as you tried to steady your breathing.

Gojo’s hand slipped to your arm, his voice softening just slightly, almost as if he could sense your thoughts. “Not everyone here deserves your hatred, you know,” he said, his tone surprisingly sincere. “Some of them are just… doing what they think they need to do to survive.”

You looked at him, your eyes narrowing. “And what about you?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “Are you just trying to survive, too?”

He paused, his smile fading just slightly, his gaze meeting yours. For a moment, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes—something almost like regret. But then he looked away, his smile returning, though it was colder now.

“Who knows?” he said, his tone dismissive. “Maybe I’m just here for the entertainment.”

—

The dinner stretched on, each passing moment feeling heavier than the last. Courses came and went, accompanied by wine that seemed to flow endlessly, dulling the edges of conversations that were sharper than they appeared. You picked at your plate, forcing yourself to eat just enough to avoid drawing attention, your senses heightened by the oppressive air of the room.

Gojo remained at your side, his presence an infuriating mix of comfort and threat. He engaged easily with the other guests, his words charming, his smile disarming. Yet, even as he bantered and laughed, you could feel his attention on you, like a predator keeping one eye on its prey. The sound of a fork gently tapping against a glass silenced the room, the hum of conversation dissipating in an instant. All eyes turned to Gojo, who rose from his seat, his smile as dazzling as the chandeliers overhead. The air shifted, the room’s energy focusing entirely on him.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice smooth, carrying just enough weight to command the room. “It seems our esteemed host, Suguru Geto, has been called away on urgent business. A pity, really—he was quite looking forward to this evening.”

A few murmurs rippled through the crowd, but Gojo raised a hand, his smile widening. “But fear not,” he continued, his tone light, almost playful. “I’ve been asked to step in and say a few words. And I think we all know I’m never one to pass up an opportunity to talk.” Laughter filled the room, the sound grating against your nerves as Gojo lifted his glass, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.

"We have come far, haven’t we? From the chaos of rebellion to the unity of true order. And it’s all thanks to the hard work, the dedication, and the loyalty of everyone in this room."

The guests murmured their agreement, a few lifting their glasses in response. Satoru’s eyes flicked to you then, his smile widening. "And speaking of dedication, I’d also like to introduce a very special guest tonight. Someone who has recently joined us, and who will, I’m sure, play a very important role in the Republic’s future." Your heart skipped a beat, your pulse quickening as every eye in the room turned to you. You forced yourself to keep your expression calm, a polite smile on your lips as Satoru placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip light but firm.

"This," he said, his voice carrying with an easy authority, "is our newest addition. A woman who, despite the circumstances of her arrival, has proven herself to be resilient, adaptable, and willing to work toward a brighter future for all of us." He paused, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment, a flicker of something dark passing behind them. "We are very lucky to have her." The applause that followed felt hollow, the smiles around you empty and false. You kept your own smile in place, your hands folded neatly in your lap, even as your heart pounded in your chest.

“And,” he added, his tone shifting slightly, “let’s not forget the people who make all of this possible. People like my good friend, Kento Nanami, whose tireless dedication to the Republic ensures that even our most ambitious plans run smoothly.”

Your stomach dropped.

The name hit you like a slap, your breath catching as you tried to process what you had just heard. Kento Nanami. It wasn’t just a name anymore—it was the name Yui had whispered to you, the person the rebellion had sent to this dinner. Your head spun as you tried to reconcile the quiet rebel spy with the man Satoru spoke of so casually, so confidently, as though Kento’s loyalty to the Republic was unquestionable.

Gojo continued, oblivious to your internal turmoil. “Kento is one of the most reliable people I know,” he said, lifting his glass again. “And I’m sure we can all agree that this world would be a lot messier without his steady hand guiding the way.” The room chuckled again, and you forced yourself to join in, your laugh hollow and strained. You glanced around the table, your eyes searching for Kento, and there he was—seated several places down, his face carefully neutral, his posture relaxed. He lifted his glass in a polite nod of acknowledgment, his expression giving nothing away.

You stared at him, your mind racing. Kento Nanami. He’s the spy. He has whatever the rebellion needs. But how were you supposed to get it from him? And what could it be? Yui had been vague, leaving you to piece together what you could from the fragments of information you’d been given. You didn’t know how, but you had to find a way to get close to him, to make the exchange without drawing attention. Gojo’s presence complicated things, his every word and movement a reminder of the fine line you were walking.

The grand hall began to empty, the hum of conversation shifting as guests drifted toward other rooms or the estate gardens. You watched carefully, waiting for the right moment, your heart pounding in your chest. Kento Nanami remained at the far end of the table, speaking quietly to a pair of men whose uniforms marked them as officers. He looked composed, unhurried, but you could see the subtle tension in his posture—the way his shoulders stayed just a little too straight, his gaze lingering on the men’s faces as though measuring each word. 

Gojo was distracted, caught in a conversation with an official who gestured animatedly as he spoke. You took your chance, slipping toward the edges of the room, weaving through the clusters of guests with a practiced air of nonchalance. Your breath came shallow as you approached Kento, every nerve on edge. He noticed you before you reached him, his sharp eyes meeting yours briefly. He gave no outward reaction, but his subtle shift in stance seemed almost like permission. The officers he’d been speaking to stepped away, leaving him momentarily alone near the farthest edge of the hall.

You stepped closer, keeping your movements casual, careful not to attract attention. When you were close enough, you spoke softly, your voice low enough that only he could hear. “Kento Nanami.”

His expression didn’t change, but his gaze flicked to you, sharp and assessing. “I wasn’t aware we were on a first-name basis,” he said quietly, his voice calm, measured. 

“I think we can dispense with formalities,” you replied, forcing an edge of calm into your own voice despite the way your heart was racing. “You know why I’m here.”

For the briefest moment, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or calculation. He glanced around the room, his movements slow, deliberate, before returning his gaze to yours. “Do I?”

“Yui sent me,” you whispered. The name hung in the air between you like a test.

His lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze narrowing slightly. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Reckless,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I told her not to involve anyone else.”

“Then you’ll understand that I don’t have much time,” you said, your voice firm but hushed. “Whatever it is you’re carrying, I need it.”

His eyes swept over you again, his expression unreadable. “And what makes you think you can handle it?” he asked, his tone cool. “This isn’t some message to pass along. What I have… it could change everything, but it’s useless in the wrong hands.”

Your chest tightened at his words. “I’m not here because I want to be,” you said, keeping your voice low but steady. “I’m here because I have to be. If you want to get this out of here, you’re going to need my help. They already watch me. No one will suspect I’m moving anything.” For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze searching yours as though weighing your every word, every breath. The room around you felt unbearably loud, the laughter and conversation like a mask hiding the precariousness of this moment.

Finally, he exhaled, a quiet sigh that carried the weight of resignation. “What Yui said about you… I hope she’s right.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket, his movements smooth, unhurried. When he withdrew his hand, it was clenched around a small, metallic object.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before slipping the object into your hand, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. “A flash drive,” he murmured. “Encrypted. Inside are documents—locations, plans, names.”

Your grip tightened around the drive, your mind racing. “And what am I supposed to do with this?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to stay composed.

“Keep it safe until you can move it,” he said, his tone clipped. “Don’t let anyone near it. And don’t trust anyone—not even the people who claim to be on your side.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sound of approaching footsteps cut you off. Your heart leapt into your throat as Gojo’s voice carried through the room, light and teasing.

“Nanami! Still lingering, are we?”

Kento’s expression didn’t falter, his demeanor as calm and collected as ever. “Just finishing a conversation,” he replied smoothly, his gaze flicking briefly to you before returning to Gojo. 

Gojo’s eyes slid to you, his smirk widening. “And what are you two chatting about? It must be fascinating if it’s keeping Nanami from his usual brooding.” He then shifted to face Nanami, giving you just enough time to slip the flash drive into the chest covering part of your dress, pretending that you were adjusting the fabric. It was so smooth that you would’ve thought you had been a spy in your past life. 

“Just getting to know each other,” Nanami said lightly. “It seems we’ll be seeing a lot of the same faces moving forward.”

Gojo chuckled, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than was comfortable. “Well, don’t let Nanami bore you too much,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “He’s not exactly the life of the party.”

Kento gave a faint nod, stepping back slightly. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he said, his tone polite but detached. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with Gojo. Your pulse hammered in your ears as you forced yourself to stand still, to stay calm, even as you felt the weight of the flash drive hidden against your skin. 

As you walked toward the grand doors with Gojo beside you, the evening’s events swirled in your mind. The weight of the flash drive hidden against your skin pressed heavily with every step, the enormity of its contents threatening to overwhelm you. You forced yourself to stay calm, to keep your breathing steady, though your heart was still pounding in your ears.

The corridor leading out of the grand hall was crowded with officers and guests, their conversations blending into a low hum as they slowly dispersed. You maneuvered through the throng, your heels clicking against the polished marble, Gojo’s casual gait beside you a stark contrast to your careful steps.

But then, in a moment of distraction, your foot landed squarely on someone else’s. 

The man, an officer, his uniform immaculate and adorned with medals, let out a sharp hiss of pain, his head whipping around to glare at you. His face was flushed, his eyes bloodshot, the scent of wine lingering in the air around him. “You little —” he growled, and before you could apologize or step back, his hand swung out.

The slap was fast, hard, and merciless. It struck you across the cheek with enough force to send you stumbling, your heels skidding against the smooth floor. You hit the ground, the cold marble biting against your palms and knees as pain blossomed across your face, hot and stinging. “Watch where you’re going,” the officer snapped, his voice sharp and filled with venom. “And remember your place. You’re here by their mercy, not because you belong.” The words cut deeper than the slap, but you refused to let him see the hurt. You clenched your teeth, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. You wanted to scream at him, to lash out, but you knew better. You knew that any defiance would only make things worse. You gritted your teeth, your head spinning as you struggled to push yourself up, the sting in your cheek radiating with every movement. 

The room had gone quiet, the low hum of conversation silenced as all eyes turned toward the commotion. You could feel their stares, their judgment, the weight of their disdain pressing down on you like a lead blanket.

But then, before you could fully rise, a shadow loomed over you.

Satoru Gojo.

He stepped between you and the officer, his expression shifting in an instant from lazy amusement to something colder, sharper, and far more dangerous. His hand reached out, and for a moment, you thought he was going to help you up. Instead, he grabbed the officer by the front of his uniform, his grip deceptively casual as he pulled the man close. “I’m sorry,” Gojo said, his tone light but dripping with malice. “I must have missed the part where you thought it was acceptable to lay a hand on her.���

The officer swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor. “My apologies, sir,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Gojo didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he extended a hand to you, his gaze meeting yours. There was something in his eyes—something cold, calculated, but also… protective. It made your stomach twist, your emotions tangling in confusion. 

You hesitated for only a moment before taking his hand. His grip was strong, and he pulled you to your feet effortlessly. You winced as you stood, the side of your face still throbbing from the impact, but you forced yourself to stand tall, refusing to let your fear or pain show. Gojo’s attention shifted back to the officer, his smile returning, though it was more of a smirk—dangerous and mocking. “You should go,” he said, his voice almost bored. “Before I decide you need a reminder of your place.”

The officer nodded quickly, stepping back, his eyes avoiding yours as he turned and hurried away. The guests who had witnessed the scene began to disperse, their murmurs filling the silence as they quickly turned their attention elsewhere, as though eager to pretend nothing had happened.

Gojo’s hand lingered on your arm, his touch just light enough to seem casual, but firm enough to keep you steady. He chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “They forget sometimes,” he said, his gaze drifting to where the officer had disappeared. “That some people are… off-limits.”

You forced a smile, nodding. “I’ll be more careful.”

He watched you for a moment longer, his gaze lingering on your face, on the mark that was already forming where you’d been struck. And then, as if deciding that the moment had passed, he turned, gesturing for you to follow.

“Come on,” he said, his tone casual once more. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

— 

Back in your room, you were quick to rid yourself of the dress. Your cheek throbbed where the officer’s hand had struck, the sting radiating through your jaw and down your neck. You moved to the small washbasin near the corner, splashing cold water on your face and watching as it dripped into the porcelain below.

The bruise was already beginning to form, faint but unmistakable, a reminder of your place in this fractured world. You stared at your reflection in the rising water for a long moment, the events of the evening swirling in your mind—the tension at the dinner, Kento’s warning, the weight of the flash drive hidden beneath a floorboard near the bed that you had found a few days ago when you were reading your file. 

You changed into the simple clothes that had been left for you—a soft cotton shirt and loose pants—before sinking down onto the edge of the bed. The silence of your room felt heavy, pressing down on you as you tried to process everything that had happened, everything that was yet to come. You let out a slow breath, your body aching, your mind spinning with thoughts of the rebellion and what might come next. But your thoughts wouldn’t quiet, replaying the events of the dinner, the officer’s strike, the way Gojo had looked at you—cold, calculating, but almost… protective. It made no sense. Nothing about him made sense. 

There was a soft knock at the door.

Your heart skipped a beat, fear and adrenaline rushing through you as you sat up. Before you could respond, the door opened, and Satoru Gojo stepped inside.

He moved with the same easy grace he always had, his gaze finding yours immediately. His expression was softer now, his eyes lacking the usual sharpness that made you feel like he was peeling away your layers. For a moment, he just stood there, looking at you, his mouth set in a line that was neither a smile nor a frown.

“You’re supposed to knock,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your words carrying more exhaustion than actual reprimand.

He chuckled softly, closing the door behind him as he stepped into the room. “I did knock,” he said, his tone light. “You just didn’t answer.” He approached slowly, his gaze flickering to your cheek. He winced slightly, his smile fading as he took in the dark bruise that marred your skin. He moved closer, standing at the edge of your bed, his voice lowering. “Let me see.” You hesitated, your breath catching in your throat, but you nodded, turning your head slightly to give him a better view. He knelt beside the bed, his eyes narrowing as he studied the bruise, his expression softening in a way you weren’t used to.

“That bastard really got you, didn’t he?” he murmured, his fingers hovering near your cheek but not quite touching. There was something in his voice—something that almost sounded like regret. 

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “It’s not the worst thing that’s happened,” you said quietly.

Gojo’s gaze flicked up to yours, and for a moment, you saw something behind his eyes, something vulnerable, something almost kind. It was disarming, this glimpse of him that didn’t match the man you knew, the man who had been your captor, your tormentor.

“You shouldn’t have to put up with that,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

The words hung between you, and you found yourself wanting to believe him, wanting to see the sincerity in his eyes as real, as something that you could trust. For a brief, dangerous moment, you thought about the flash drive hidden beneath the floorboards. You thought about telling him — about sharing the weight of what you carried, about letting him in, trusting that maybe he would help you.

Your lips parted, your heart pounding, but then you remembered.

Don’t trust anyone. Yui’s words echoed in your mind, a stark reminder of the reality you lived in. The people in this place, Gojo included, played their own games, had their own agendas. Gojo was powerful, dangerous, and whatever kindness he showed you, it was only a part of the larger web of manipulation and control that bound you to this place.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head slightly, pushing the thought away. You couldn’t afford to trust him. Not now. Not ever. 

“It’s fine,” you said, your voice steady, the mask slipping back into place. “I’ll be fine.”

Gojo studied you for a moment longer, his eyes searching yours as if he could see the thoughts you were hiding, the things you weren’t saying. Then, slowly, he nodded, his gaze softening. He lingered for a moment, as if there was something else he wanted to say, but then he turned, moving toward the door. He paused with his hand on the handle, glancing back at you, his gaze lingering for just a beat too long before he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him, and you were alone again. The silence settled around you, the tension in your chest slowly easing as you let out a shaky breath. You pressed your hand to the floorboards, feeling the weight of the flash drive beneath it, the dangerous secret that could change everything.

—

The quiet crackle of the fire was the first thing you noticed when you stirred in the middle of the night. The room, bathed in a soft, flickering orange glow, felt warmer than it had before. You sat up slowly, your mind foggy with sleep, and saw Hana crouched by the fireplace, her back to you. She was stoking the flames, her movements efficient and quiet, as though she didn’t want to disturb you. You watched her for a moment, your heart slowing as you took in the scene. Snow was falling outside, visible through the frosted edges of the tall window. The flakes drifted lazily, blanketing the estate grounds in a pale, cold stillness. It was almost beautiful, in a way that made your chest ache.

Hana didn’t speak as she adjusted the fire, and when she was satisfied with her work, she stood, brushing the soot from her hands. She glanced at you briefly, her expression unreadable, before turning and leaving the room without a word. The door clicked softly shut behind her, and you were alone again.

You stared at the fire, its warmth reaching out toward you, chasing away the lingering chill in the room. The flames danced and flickered, alive and untamed, and something about them drew you in. You slipped out of bed, your bare feet making no sound as you moved toward the fireplace.

Your file sat on the nearby table, where you’d left it earlier. The neat stack of papers, bound together so methodically, was a record of everything you used to be. Every accomplishment, every failure, every detail of the person you had been before this nightmare began. It had been given to you like a weapon, a reminder of the life that had been stripped from you and the role you were now expected to play. You picked it up, your fingers brushing over the cover.

The fire crackled again, louder this time, and you looked at it, the flames reflecting in your eyes. Slowly, you moved closer, the file clutched tightly in your hands. You knelt by the fire, staring at the flames as they danced, alive and hungry. You opened the file, flipping through the pages one last time. The words blurred together, meaningless now, each line a ghost of a life you no longer recognized.

With trembling hands, you fed the first page into the fire. The flames caught it instantly, devouring it with a hiss, and you watched as the paper curled and blackened, the words disappearing into ash. One by one, you fed the pages to the fire, each one a small act of defiance, a quiet rebellion against the weight of the past.

When the last page was gone, you sat back, your hands empty, your chest heaving with the weight of what you’d done. The fire burned brighter now, the warmth spreading through the room, and you felt… lighter. Freer.

The snow continued to fall outside, the world beyond your window blanketed in white. You stared into the flames, the heat warming your skin, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself breathe. You weren’t the person in that file anymore. You didn’t know who you were, not yet. But you knew one thing for certain: You were still alive. And as long as you were alive, you still had the power to change things.

The woman in that file was dead. 

You were what remains. 

[veggieharumaki]

let time pass.

[fantasmagoriam]

You think there is one lizard living in my head?

Wrong! There's two!!

[mikarons]

sirius belongs to @piipstachio

[capybaraonabicycle]

Ruth / Fugitive!Doctor for the character bingo thing?

Thank you so much for the ask!! All the Doctors are my favourite Doctor but I still count her as my second favourite after 12 <3 So this made me very happy

[tonycries]

FEVER FEVER FEVER

Synopsis. Sèx pollen - it’s never felt so good.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, sèx pollen, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, creampíes, bréeding, making them whímper, oraI (fem), true form Sukuna, Sukuna’s two mouths, ínappropríate use of jujutsu, 7:3 technique, GOJO’S POWERS, matíng presses, overstím, bóndage, first times (Choso), losing control, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Can you guess the title reference heheh?

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - WICKED!

Toji Fushiguro swears he isn’t affected - he swears that stupid, stray technique didn’t actually hit him when finishing off today’s job.

After all, it’s not like he’s some weak, pathetically needy-

“Please, doll.” Toji gasps - he heaves - hot and heavy between your pretty legs. Letting his roughened tongue slide its pathway across that perky scar sitting right on the edge of his white-glossed lip, re-tasting you. Himself. And he can feel the way his overworked tip twitches at that cute wide-eyed gaze of yours, mouth dropping at him begging. “Don’t make me ah- say any of that s-stupid stuff again.”

You huff out a low bout of teasing laughter that makes him flinch, “Hmm, but I don’t think I heard you properly, baby?”

God, he wished he couldn’t smell your sweet saccharine scent fogging up his mind, he wished the mere sound of your honeyed tone didn’t have him gushing out in another sweltering hot wave. Growling, “W-when this is over I swear—”

“Time’s ticking…”

Damn.

“P-please-” The word comes out strangled - pained. “Can I p-put it back inside, ma?”

It’s a beg - a plea.

One that has Toji’s ears flushing an angry red, and his eyes looking up at you tearily in a way that uttered he’d die right now if he didn’t get another taste of your heavenly cunt.

You can barely even start to let your head shake with a nod before a choked-up groan bursts from Toji’s wobbly lips. And he’s flipping you over with one simple push of his large, strong arms attached roughly onto your hips. Pushing your pliantly face into the soft, silken pillows on all fours like he couldn’t bear hearing any more of those sweet sounds of yours. For the sake of his sanity. 

“Yes-” he gasps, digits curling around his thick hilt to guide them into a pretty peck against your cunt. “Yes yes yes yes- finally- ah finally-”

He’s drooling. Still so greedy even after hours now. 

Swollen cock so rawly red and angry, he’s splattering out freshly translucent swashes of precum against your puckered hole. Creamy and drizzled with rings of cum from just before that he hadn’t been able to lap up mere moments earlier. 

Toji couldn’t get enough- he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t think it’s even physically possible. 

“Can’t believe what ya d-do to me-” His words are hushed, unsteady - like they were on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. Pressing a lingering trail of kisses down your arched spine, he gulps in your heady pheromones. “-oh, s’not even that fucking p-pollen, ya have no fuckin’ idea.” 

But ah he gets even harder at your scent. Shuddering out a heavy groan, every powerful limb of Toji’s utterly loosening at the way your toasty cunt was hugging him so tightly all over again. You’re being massaged against his mouth-watering abs when he pushes even further in-

“Where the fuck do you think you’re g-going, huh?”

It takes you a few cockdrunken seconds to realize that this is Toji talking to you - deep baritone a few octaves higher, cracking ever-so-slightly at the end in a way you’d never even imagined before. And a few more to recognize that you’d been clawing at the rickety headboard, jittery hips sneaking mere inches away from his ruthless size. 

You’re gasping, letting go immediately. “I-I didn’t mean- you’re just so big, Toji.”

And, truly, he was. 

There’s so much of him.

You didn’t know whether it was the sex pollen that had him fitting out the snug inches of his girth so massively bigger than usual. Strawberry tip red and painting your puffy pussy lips to be dripping wet, it seemed like just the tiniest piston has his rotund head spreading open your taut insides. 

Has Toji’s head reeling. Has him getting angry at the slightly melty recoil that had his bawling tip parting from your insides for a split-second. 

Addicted. 

But this makes Toji hiss, it makes his strong arms wrap around your waist in a vice-like bodylock. Eyes crinkling with watery beads of tears, he catches your lips in a filthy, filthy kiss. “No- don’t fuckin- you can fucking take it- want it- need it, ma, please- think m’gonna die without ya-”

Gripping harshly onto your hips to slam into the very depths of your pussy, he’s feeding your sopping slit with every his girthy inch. All the way until his hefty balls kiss wetly up against your ass. 

THUD!

“Oh shit-” your voice quivers, eyeing the sagging end of the bed. “Toji, you broke the-”

But that didn’t matter to Toji. Why would it?

SLAM!

In fact, it’s the fucking last thing he could think about before swiftly maneuvering your body to press against the fucking floor with a strained gruff. 

And in a split-second, something muscular and weighty is being pressed onto the back of your head. You gasp when you realize that it’s Toji’s foot, angling his gyrating hips perfectly right to swipe an oozing glide of wispy precum down your battered g-spot. 

He’s panting - heaving out, “Heh, s-spread ‘em-” Frantically kneeing apart your limp legs wider, “oh, yeah tha’s it. Shhh sh sh-” You didn’t know whether Toji was trying to soothe you or his greedy self. “Take this f-fuckin’ cock f’me, alright?”

Splaying out one palm midway down your stomach to massage and feel for his riotous nudge, exactly where he could feel himself ramming in for the nth time. Over and over- 

Hmm…maybe this sex pollen wasn’t too bad. 

“W-what?” You’re whirling your bleary gaze over your shoulder to sputter and Toji registers that his drunken mouth has accidentally babbled out loud. 

But the only response you mercifully get is Toji spooning his fingers down to swirl over your neglected clit. A sleazy grin smearing all over his face at the way his thick digits slip and slide from how coated your sensitive nub was with his seed. 

“M’jus’ s-sayin, ma-” he grins, and you feel his tight, cum-filled balls thwack! thwack! thwack! against your overstuffed cunt even harder. More wickedly. “This sex pollen’s making me a bit…hungry again.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 7:3

“M-my love-” Nanami hisses through a wince at the way his rich baritone was breaking pathetically - hoarse, choked-up. He’s never felt this way. Never. “J-jus’ one more?”

Never been so greedy. So horny.

Like he’d die if he doesn’t paint your pretty pussy white.

And if the way your husband had you folded into a mean mess of a mating press wasn’t enough to agree, he’s planting a pretty peck right against the battered bullseye of your g-spot with his swollen tip. Hard. 

The spongy cushion making him collapse onto his elbows with a groan, repeating his same, syrupy mantra. “Please o-one more-”

Nanami’s stamina was incredible by itself but now?

Now it had you blinking back your sobbing tears, swiping away the sweat-dampened strands of blond from his face with a trembly hand, “Only one more?”

Oh, Nanami’s voice opens to agree, his lips crack open to repeat them- those words barely babbling out of his loose mouth before your clingy walls suddenly give him a tempting squeeze. And any and all rational thought is sucked thoroughly out of him-

“I-I don’t know-” he’s breathing out, letting his head fall into the safety of the crook of your neck. Hips still stuttering forwards to spearhead into your gummy depths. Mindlessly. He could feel the drippingly wet slosh of his cum coating his shaft. Drinking in your sweet, sweet scent, “Don’t- don’t know why this is happening. Don’t know if it’s ‘nough- don’t hngh- know if it’ll ever be. J-jus’ want you a pretty m-momma, darling.”

And it’s all that he’s been thinking about for the whole day now.

Right from the very second he’d been hit with a special grade technique during a mission, to the moment that Nanami had stormed up to your apartment and taken you right then and there on the living room floor.

Hours ago.

“P-please-” 

Nanami doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, but it’s just about all that he can sputter out like a little prayer. 

However, you do, apparently. Flashing him a cockdrunken smile that makes his breath hitch, and his tip bawl out a new velvety wave of precum that splatters against the ends of your cervix. You hum, “Mhm- o-one more, Ken–”

Immediately being shut up by a sudden slam! into your sweetest spots, he’s rutting in so deep, so thoroughly that you’re left deliriously wondering whether the circumference of his girth would be left indented onto your melty walls. Again. And again and again and- shit, was he using his jujutsu?

Was he even in control?

“Can’t stop- can’t stop can’t stop- I-it’s like-” Jackhammering pound after angry pound so hard that you’re being pushed further and further up the floor. “You’re too good to me- no!” he cries, accidentally sliding out from between your glossy folds to smack! smack! smack! his furiously reddened cock down the splatters of seed that drip down from your slit. Twitching until he bullies back in- “-promise m’gonna m-make it up to ya- hah- promise m’not gonna miss.”

And then he’s letting your unsteady fingers clutch tightly around the silky fabric of that yellow, speckled work tie that he hadn’t even bothered removing. “H-hold onto this- hold- in case I get too…” 

“Ken-” you hiss, feeling the cold circumference of Nanami’s wedding ring prod at your clit. So full you have the distinct thought that you could almost explode. “M’not s-sure if it’ll fit though-”

But Nanami didn’t want that - couldn’t even bear the thought-

“W-won’t fit?” Nanami shudders, eyes wide. “It won’t…won’t fit?” 

Sounding so devastated. 

Cracking a low whine at the very back of his throat when he immediately flinches away - spreading out his rounded fingers across your stomach to press. He coats his warm cock with a sudden gleam of cum eagerly, “S’this o-okay now? Will- will it fit, my love?”

And it’s so, so filthy.

You’re mewling like such a slut, “Yes- yes yes yes yes- m-more-”

Nanami was practically burning up, heaving for air. His feverish pleas panting out condensely against your face. 

“Gonna fill this ngh- cute cunt up until she’s overspilling.” Rummaging his dick inside your gooey cunt dangerously accurately, grazing up the thumping pace of his veins down the crevices of all your sensitive spots. Even hidden ones. “Have you all round and ah- glowing with my kid.” Uncharacteristically leaving a sodden swat! at your plump clit to watch your gush out in another creamy ring. “Can’t rest- can’t fuckin’ stop until I do. Feels like m’burning.”

Your fingers wrap even more desperately around his tie, pulling - hauling.

Yes, he gulps. This is what he wanted - what he needed. What the pollen was begging him for. 

His lips leer down to glissade wetly across your own, not even a kiss because he could barely even manage one. Unable to even raise his droopy eyes to meet your stare, “-hah- what do you want- t-tell me what you want, my wife.”

Your own lips quiver. “I-I want two babies, Ken-”

Oh. 

Oh, fuck. 

When Nanami was out of control, he was unrecognizable. 

Hips slamming against yours in a few more sloppy strokes, before filling up every empty space with hot pumps of his seed. Voluminous. It’s spurting against your walls with a wet thwack! and not even your hand around his tie makes him slow down.

The air crackles with a few more sparks of jujutsu - except Nanami couldn’t control it. Couldn’t grasp the way even with his technique, he was so drunk on your pussy that his cock was just barely drawing wet glides of cum down your g-spot. Almost missing. 

Making him malfunction his cursed technique. 

Yet, the only thing you can register is when your own orgasm hits, white-hot tingles flashing down your spine. Toes curling, pulse thundering so loudly in your ears that you almost miss-

“O-one…just one more, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - (Un)affected

“I don’t…I don’t-”

Now, Geto Suguru had absolutely zero idea what he was about to babble away - maybe that he wasn’t affected by that sex pollen curse he’d swallowed, maybe that he wasn’t losing a slight bit of his sanity with every feverish drag of his fingers down his painfully hard cock.

“-don’t need anythin’ but your hngh- pretty face, gorgeous. Help out your leader, would ya?”

And oh, you looked like such a dream below him - with your glassy eyes blinking up at him, tongue darted out so obscenely to catch the stray splatters of his aphrodisiac-like precum. Pearly, winking beads that drip! drip! drip! down his visibly throbbing length. 

His beautiful second-in-command.

And he was so ruined. 

Sounding so pathetic when he whispers, scared at the way he knew his words would crack pathetically at the very end. “B-bring yerself closer, no need to be hah- shy- let me- let me…please.”

But he looked so pretty above you.

Splayed out in such a messy way on the throne for the association leader, dark brows knitted, sweat trickling in glistening rivulets down his forehead. Strands of Geto’s long, dark hair stick to his forehead when he smacks your pouty lips with his angry cock until they’re rubbed raw. 

“Wan’ you to cum, Sugu–” you’re batting your lashes in a way that makes his swollen cock twitch in his hands. Smearing your palms up and down the creamy skin of his muscular, manspread thighs, “-cum on my face, please?”

Fuck, he was so unfairly sensitive right now that just the singular gust of your words hitting his cock made Geto’s abs ripple. Make his entire body wrack with shudder after shudder as his weepy tip spits out a translucent few beads of precum. 

“S-such a naughty mouth.” he’s hissing, trying for the life of him to not act like the simplest glide of your palms had Geto fighting back his high already. “Better be ah- careful. Can’t talk like that n’ not end up s-stuffed full, honey–”

It’s a warning. 

For both of you.

Geto’s finding his roughened digits fly down faster and faster his length, squeezing ever-so-slightly harder near his mushroom slit.

You whine, “But I want that, Sugu.”

You little minx. You evil, evil little-

And he can’t fucking stop the way his hefty balls clench - painfully, obscenely, sluttily in a way that has the pinkish divot at the very end of his cock spurt out in a ribbon of steaming hot seed.

You’re closing your eyes, waiting for more- but Geto has other plans. 

Plans that have him swiping over the thick pad of his thumb to press down hard at the very ruby head of his erection, choking back a slew of swears when he wavers off his orgasm for just a second. Just long enough to drag you upwards with one free hand attaching to your waist. 

Up, up, up-

“Sit on m-my cock, gorgeous-” he’s spitting, wet and panted against your lips. Dizzying. You gasp at the sodden drag of Geto’s bawling tip down your pre-soaked pussy lips, meshing in a wet, wet French kiss. “-c’mon. Ride me. Ride me please- m’burning up.”

And it was the only opportunity you’d get to hear the dangerous Geto Suguru whine, to see him blink his long, teary lashes up at you when you sink your drooling cunt down his girth just an inch. 

He was so warm splitting you open. 

So steaming hot when your tight pussy floods with string wads of cum, such a mind-numbing orgasm that Geto can feel it before he even registers it. One that has his toes curling, his arms locking around your waist to fuck up into you like he hates you. 

“D-don’t get it twisted m’early because of the ah- p-pollen.” he groans, back muscles flexing with every perfect curved arch upwards into your greedy hips. The wet thwack! of skin-on-skin resounds throughout the tatami room and makes Geto drool. Unable to even spell out coherent sentences right now - well, not until he feels your sloppy hips slow down just a tad.

“Sugu- m’tired.”

Truly, his stamina was too much. 

Swat! His fingers leave branding little imprints, before roughly attaching to pinch your pulsing clit, “Work on it, gorgeous- tha’s an order. Because m’not hngh- anywhere near done. Jus’ milk me- milk me dry…oh, yeah let that pretty pussy have her fun-” 

“O-oh fuck fuck fuck-” You clutch precariously at the mahogany woodwork of his chair, thighs aching with the sheer effort to try and bounce your drippingly wet pussy down onto his rudely jostling cock. “-there’s so much- ah- can feel it drippin’ down my thighs-”

“Sh-shut up.” Geto’s managing to get out through grit teeth, planting another unabashed smack on your cunt simply to prove his point. Begging, “God, please- mercy-”

Because your honeyed tone is so sweet, your words so filthy that they have him spurting out a few more fatigued rivers of cum. 

Rasping out the tiniest of whimpers with each of your damp bounces, he makes you work. “O-open that mouth.” And you listen - of course, you do - letting those pretty, spit-glossed lips fall open into a soft ah! All so perfect for him to spit- the taste makes you hot. Burning, like an aphrodisiac. And now you’re feeling dizzy. “Bein’ way too talkative f-for a ngh- second-in-command. Aren’t ya?”

And obviously you don’t point out the slight drizzle of drool that makes its way down the corner of his coral pink lips, obviously you don’t point out just how hot and heavy he was swirling lewdly inside your walls. Stretching you out to the max - still so hard despite cumming for the nth time already.

No, instead, you smile drunkenly. “Why? D-does it affect you, sir?”

Smack!

“Sh-shut up n’ keep riding me, gorgeous.” And you could’ve sworn that Geto’s voice broke.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Bed chem.

Choso was ruined. Absolutely fucked out…and he was so pathetically embarrassed about it. 

Unable to wrangle the teary ah! ah! ah! ripping from the very depths of his throat every time your drenched cunt was dragging down his sensitive shaft. Still clothed, still glissading along his thumping veins teasingly - but he felt like he could cum already. 

“P-please, baby-” The thick pads of his jittery fingers find their way to the edges of your soaked underwear, hooking inside ever-so-slightly - and the tiniest sneak peek of your puffy pussy lips makes him gulp. “-please I feel like m’gonna hah- die without ya.”

“But, Cho—” And that nickname in your sweetened tone is enough for him to buck right off the silken sheets. “-how am I supposed to help you with the pollen, otherwise? M’jus’ being a good friend.”

You wanted him to say it.

You wanted your best friend to beg.

“I-I…”

And oh, he trails off - because you’re helping him slide your sticky panties just enough down your thighs. Flashing him such a dangerous smile right as you watch Choso’s mouth drop, dark brows scrunching together when he heaves out a moan.

“I d-don’t know, baby- I don’t- I don’t know-” And he felt like he was burning, he felt his melty mind getting dizzier by the minute as your slobbering cunt drags in determined gyrations against him faster. Swollen folds spreading to coat the pattern of his throbbing veins in a gleaming sheen. Humping so ferally. “B-but you smell so good and f-feel so oh- all I want is…” 

You don’t get to hear the rest of his sentence. 

Within a split-second, your panties are left in tiny tatters for him to breathe in. Filthily.

Drinking in his fill before he has one pinning both your wrists behind your back. The other plugging into your cunt to circle a slow swivel enough for him to bully inside-

Heaven. He was in heaven. 

“This. This is what it oh- feels like? This is a-all I want-” he’s hiccuping, voice breaking into such a pretty whine every time his raw cock is tapping against the softest areas of your gummy walls. “-to fuck my p-pretty best friend. All I’ve ever wanted- S’my first ngh- time, y’know?”

You’re fluttering your eyes back open to bore down at Choso’s fucked-out expression. “S’your first time? Wh-why didn’t you ah- tell me, Cho?”

And maybe because he was embarrassed, maybe because all it takes is a single clench of your saturated cunt around his girthy shaft for him to shoot out a few wisps of cum. Half-orgasming already. 

But Choso only plants his powerful thighs flat on the mattress to pressurize his slow drills upwards.

Tentative, almost. As if he wasn’t utterly rummaging your insides, poking at your glossy cervix with sopping wet glides of his fat cock, stretching out your taut channel to massage spots you didn’t even know existed. 

The pollen had him greedier than ever. 

“Mhmm�� because th-there’s no one else f’me.” His lower lip wobbles cutely, dewy eyes drooping to an almost closed state with every drag of his cock down your elastic walls. Filthy. Feverish. “S’jus’ for a bit- just- hah- just for the pollen, remember?”

Oh, right. You’re shuffling your hands precariously onto Choso’s bulging pecs to determine your grinds even more thoroughly. Pound after pound that left your ass stinging with impact. It was so hypnotic that you’d almost forgotten about the entire reason you were…helping in the first place. 

You fingers bully between his plump lips, muttering, “Open f’me, Cho?”

And of course Choso would do anything you command in a heartbeat. Anything. The only thing on his mind when he lets his mouth fall slack - just in time for your syrupy stream of spit. Hitting right onto the middle of his tastebuds, swallowing. 

So heady that he half-wonders whether you were the cause of the sex pollen itself. 

Holding back a few strained pleas for mercy, he’s placing a wet line of pecks down the side of your teary cheeks- shit, when did you even start crying? Choso can’t help but let his pinkish tongue loll out to lick a languid stripe up those salty dredges, groaning. 

“Just for the p-pollen and…”

“And what?” you’re crying out, feeling one set of his ringed fingers curl deftly around the nub of your clit. Swiping a wet drag of his rotund pads down the very sensitive edges of the hood, it makes your thighs shiver down even faster to meet Choso’s addicted pace. 

“And then…”

In a split-second, you’re being flipped over so meanly. Splayed out like such a slut on the plush mattress when Choso drags your limp legs up onto the curves of his deltoids, abs flexing and rubbing up against your ass when he folds in half down, down, down into the meanest mating press you’ve never thought possible. 

Choso’s gleamingly sharp canines sink into your ear lobe, breath feverishly hot against your ear. In fact, all of him was absolutely burning right now. Heaving. “-then m’gonna hngh- marry you.” Spitting into your open mouth - broken. Desperate. “F-fuck the talking stage, fuck dating- m’gonna wife you up.” You feel his hips get sloppier and sloppier, spearheading Choso’s fat cock to the very bruised bottom of your pussy. “Shit- gonna propose. Be my wife- the mother of my kids. Breed this cunt- Let me please- ngh- please by my wife.”

Maybe it was the sex pollen that had him babbling so much, maybe it was you.

But either way - Choso doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a shit when you’re opening your lips enough to mumble, “I-I do- Cho.”

His best friend. Enough to make him rut up into you wildly like an animal. Clashing his wet tip over and over in sopping slides down your g-spot. Again. And again and-

And the only answer is Choso’s whimper, “A-and please…can your h-husband cum inside, baby?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Mouthy?!

Sukuna’s hooking two of his fingers into the corner of his mouth - his other mouth. A wide, ravenous smile. Larger, greedier, positioned right underneath your shamefully spread cunt. “Move that damn hand before I hafta do it myself, woman.”

And oh he sounded so impatient - so utterly strained like just a few seconds longer would have Ryomen Sukuna rampaging. 

Your entire body burns with embarrassment, jittery legs almost coming to a close at the feverish pant of his second mouth. Drooling, ravenously condensing out little droplets of saliva that splatter onto your quivering hole like a blank canvas. 

“B-but are you sure, Kuna?” you’re whimpering, biting back tiny gasps at the way his tongue drags its sodden taste-buds along where you were straddling him with your sheeny inner thighs. Face sitting but…not quite. “Y-you’re that needy?”

Oh.

Oh, you should’ve known better than to accuse the infamous King of Curses of being needy - no matter how utterly true it was right about now. 

Sukuna didn’t know what potion Uraume had accidentally knocked into his last meal, but it had him so ruined. He couldn’t even breathe without all the blood in his towering body rushing straight into his painfully swollen cocks, couldn’t even think without feeling like his veins were boiling with the sudden greed to taste you.

Because Sukuna might have had his meal…but he was still starving. In a way he didn’t even know before rolling his tongue past your glossy folds. 

And he was chuckling out a dangerous bout of rumbling laughter that makes your lower lip wobble, “Don’t fuckin’ call me n-needy. M’jus-” Addicted? Hypnotized? Battling with the feeling that he’ll die without your pretty pussy? Deep voice petering out when he couldn’t even begin to justify the way that Sukuna was dragging his lolling tongue down your sodden folds, twirling the very pointed tip over the hood of your clit. “-fuck- I don’t need to give you an explanation, p-puny human. Just ride me.”

That’s all the answer you’re getting before he hunches over - long tongue tunneling even deeper around your melty walls and Sukuna was drooling. Smacking many, many wet kisses.

He’s throwing his head back into the decadently royal pillows with a slight, cracking whimper at the sweet, sweet taste of you on his tongue. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. Swivelling wetly so that every single bead of your juices drip its silky way into his widely opened mouth. “Jus’ need a taste- just one taste.”

Your juices were like nectar, making the pollen rush.

“C-can you even taste like this, Kuna–?” your voice comes out in tiny whines. Positioning your shivery hands on either side of his shoulders to steady your legs - it just felt so unbearably good. 

Swat! 

And even with his thick, calloused fingertips, it felt like Sukuna was putting in twice the strength to plant a branding smack onto the curve of your jiggling ass. “Silly girl, of course I can taste this pretty cunt of yours-” Smoothing over the raised digits, and bearing you with such a sleazy grin. “-askin’ soo many q-questions, huh?” 

“But-”

Smack! 

“Shh, why don’t we let her speak for a second, now- hm?”

Silencing down his own grunts until all that resounds in the chamber are those sloshing squelches of your cunt dragging back and forth Sukuna’s monstrous tongue. The sounds of his wet muscle gyrating in and out hotly - it was almost burning. 

“Heh, real talkative this one is, too.” he’s snickering. Two of his arms attaching roughly onto your trembly hips, and a third covering your sagging mouth. “-why dontcha hngh- play with this pretty cunt of yours a lil’, brat? Make her all nice n’ even wetter f’me to taste?”

And it’s all you can do to dance one hand down to run over your poorly neglected clit, toying with that nub just the way you liked - and the way Sukuna liked, too. If the way his mouth - both his mouths - were smiling told you anything.

Yet, he wanted more.

“Fuck- fuck, wait.” And Sukuna smacks! away your hand with his free one - he couldn’t even last a few minutes with anyone other than himself staking a slutty claim on your cunt. “Let- let me.” Every roll of his tongue goes hand-in-hand with the meanest little drag of his fat thumb down your clit. At your surprised yelp, “Shut up and ride it.”

You’re clenching your teeth, bouncing your thighs up and down to glissade a ride everywhere from the ridges of Sukuna’s defined abs to the edges of his slurping tongue. 

“Heheh yeah-” he’s giggling - giggling. Drunk on you and your ravenous hips, you were moving against him so filthy at this point and he almost feels himself - the king of curses - blush. Head lolling backwards but eyeing down to watch how spearheaded you were on his tongue, surging in and out in wet sloshes to fuck your pretty cunt open on him. “Clenchin’ around me so tight- looks like you’re gonna cum, hm?”

“I-I am…so close, Kuna-”

“Don’ needa tell me- this cunt is speaking ‘nough for the both of ya. Right about-” Your eyes spark with sudden stars as he leaves another sudden smack! on your ass, your clit, and then one on your thigh. Before pulling- hauling- “-now.”

And the very moment you feel that build-up within your stomach snap - gushing out in wet wave after wave of your orgasm. All you can do is grab on helplessly to the- the headboard?

Blinking open your bleary eyes to realize that you were sitting on Sukuna’s mouth. His actual mouth. Cracked wide open for him to lap up every single bead and splatter of your squirting.

Such a filthy mess.

“There we go-” he’s groaning, eyes falling half-lidded. And through the corner of your eye, you catch the way his second mouth licks its lips devilishly. “-now I’m almost full.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “D-do you hate me?”

“What?” you’re blinking down at your dear boyfriend. “Of course not, Toru-”

“Then, y-you really think this will hold me back, sweetheart?”

The words are barely out of Gojo’s mouth before he already knows that they’re bluffs, already knows that the strongest is powerless against those thick black blindfolds restraining his wrists to the bedposts - and you. 

You, you, you-

With your trembly legs straddling his lap, hovering your cunt just above his strawberry blushed head so deliciously. Your sodden pussy lips slobbering all the way down his length in a way that Gojo finds dizzying. He just can’t help but tug-

“Now now, I said no pulling.” Your honeyed tone makes his fat tip twitch despite the way it was dripping with a filthy warning. “Jus’ the tip, Toru. Remember?”

Right…not. 

“Yes yes yes yes-” Gojo gasps wetly, feet planting on either side of the mattress to buck up and push. To smear a pretty peck right past your folds and against that tight ring of muscle, hot. And, shit, maybe it was that fucking pollen but Gojo whimpers, how he wished he could touch you. “-jus’ the tip. The tip hngh- please jus’ take me I don’t even c-care.”

But he did.

Oh, how much Gojo cared ever since he’d let himself be hit by that weak sex pollen jujutsu as a joke. 

Never expecting to end up babbling thoroughly pussydrunkenly like this, to have his twitchy cock sinking in a mere inch into your melty walls and feeling like he was about to burst. 

“You say that but this is way more than ‘just the tip’, Toru–”

And Gojo can’t help but look, to snap his teary eyes downwards and drink in the way your puffed-up pussy lips were bulging all around his thick cock. Just barely past his sensitive slit, he could catch that thumping pulse at your cunt like you wanted to milk something delicious. 

“A-are ya sure, pretty?” he’s snickering, gripping on tightly to use the lewd leverage of his ties to rut up, up, up- “Doesn’t l-look like hngh- s’enough to me.”

Shit.

He can’t help the way his prattling mouth sags open when your tight cunt swallows up another greedy inch. And if any of you two had been in a slightly less delirious state of mind, then you’d have noticed the way the dim bedroom lighting flickers, the way your bed shifts. 

Keening at the slight thickening where his hilt was fatter, spearheading your taut pussy so open. It’s like his prominent veins were throb throb throbbing to massage forbidden sweet spots that you didn’t even know existed. 

You’re taking a few sloppy seconds to find your voice, gathering up every shred of will in your body to make sure it doesn’t break. “D-don’t act like you’re hah- forgiven for g-getting yourself into this mess, baby-”

Ah, Gojo practically purrs underneath you. “Jus’ feel like m’gonna d-die without ya-” Bed creaking when he riotously thrusts upwards to match your tantalizing pace with a much sloppier one of his own. That smack-on-smack after every pound music to his ears - but not enough. “But, if you let m-me outta these ngh– ties then maybe I could-”

“Toru…”

Oh, he was in trouble.

But that angry scoff on your pretty features only had Gojo moaning, gulping in desperate heavals of your scented pheromones. Dizzying. 

“Satoru.”

Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, Gojo was out of control. 

Head throwing back at your voice, lips gasping. Furiously ramming upwards into you with every ounce of strength he had - and Gojo could feel his limbs weaken, his bones ache with fatigue but he needed more. 

Maybe it was the pollen, probably it was him.

Burning for it.

“Aww don’ be like that. J-just the tip- just the tip-” he’s hiccuping out, eyes rearing almost half-closed. Sweat drips down the middle of his spine, your slick smears down in a wet gush onto his tufts of white when your pussy lips kiss his toned pelvis. Way past the tip but Gojo couldn’t stop- “-a little more-” Pushing mindlessly deeper, “-the tip- fuck you can take it- jus ah-” Wouldn’t stop. Can’t stop.

“Toru-” your words pitch into something pathetically whiny now. “-m’so close…”

He already knew

Of course, he already knew. His six eyes could catch that extra wad of drool coating your inner walls, the way your rapid pulse was probing even louder against his overwhelmed cock. Almost painfully. 

“Mhm– I know I know-” he gasps, ripping out a guttural moan when you’re craning over your pretty self to lick a path down the side of that sliver of drool at his mouth. “-cum f’me then- cum- hngh- cum on my cock, please?”

“I should hah- leave you right now, for lying about j-just the tip.”

But who was Gojo Satoru against you?

The slight threat only just leaves your glossed lips before he feels a stubborn pricking behind his eyes. Fuck, what a spectacle this would be to anyone right now. Big, bulbous tears crinkling down the side of his cheeks, Gojo bats his wet lashes innocently up at you. “Please?”

And with a shudder, you’re cumming - crashing headfirst into your orgasm. 

Fuck, you’re wondering whether this curse was contagious with how strong those waves of your high are. Peak after peak and only much, much later do you realize that Gojo’s already ripped straight through his restraints.

Left as mere tatters by the pillow when he latches on roughly to your waist and pounds up his drilling rams, over and over to target your poor, bruised g-spot. Fucking you through your high, vision swimming, lights exploding- 

And Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s cumming until he’s managing to crack his glowing eyes open to bore down at the milky ring of white painting around his thick hilt. Gasping in wonderment, he’s running a singular digit down the glossy puddle - before popping it into his mouth. Sucking. 

“Sweetheart…would you h-hate me if I said I’m ah- still feeling the sex pollen?”

“...”

A/N. Hope you lovelies have a great dayyyy <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

He’s so cocky at first, smirking when you bottom down on his length. “Think you can handle it baby? Take your time if you need to kay? I know it might be too much f’ you.” He chuckles.

You raise a brow in amusement. “Oh i can handle it baby, can you?” Was what you’d first said. And that question hadn’t changed since.

His lips parted in breathy groans and heavy breathing as his hands find your waist. Lips red and swollen from biting them as his eyes looked up at you almost pleadingly. “F-fuck baby.. you’re— shit, going so f-fast. Wanna slow d-down hmm?”

You smile widely, back arching as you lean down to kiss his jaw softly. Giving a false hum in thought. “Mmm.. you can take it.” He lets out the most cry like moan, head falling back into his pillow as his hips jerk upwards. Body trembling lightly when his eyes met yours.

“Shit— please baby. You d-don’t know how fucking- haah.. how fucking tight she’s grippin’ me right now.” He was referring to the way your snug walls stroked up and down his length with every harsh bounce of your hips. “I’m gonna— o-oh fuck, gonna cum again.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the crack in his voice. Your head tilted to the side as you coo teasingly. “Yeah? Gonna be a good boy n cum f’ me baby?”

He chuckles shakily, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as his cock twitches inside you. “God i fucking love you— ahh, even when you’re milking my cock like you hate m-me.” His senses were heightened, ears picking up the every squelch on your sopping pussy and his cock feeling every ridge of your gummy walls.

He lost it when you began rolling your hips sensually. Your thighs sticking to his at the mere amount of slick that joined you two. Your wetness and his cum seeping between your folds and down his girth, turning your skilled movements sloppy as you rut your hips.

You brought a hand to his face, using your nail to brush his hair off of his sweaty forehead. “C’ mon.. let it all out.” You smiled sweetly, eyes holding a dark glint when his eyes turn teary. Small beads of water pooling at his lids before he’s crying out your name.

Overly sensitive cock aching as he spills yet another load into you. Pumping the thick white substance till you’re pumped full. The rest of the substance spurting back onto him at the lack of space.

You let out a moan, “Wow baby- there’s so much. Might.. might just be your biggest load yet.” You were getting tired, but you’d never let him know that. You swear you hear him whimper when you capture his lips with yours slowly beginning to rock your hips again.

“Shit— don’t think- d-don’t think i can give you any more baby. Feels like my cock’s gonna f-fall off.” He panted, trying to keep himself together when he felt you jerking him off with your smug walls again. A small tremble raking through his body each time your ass landed back down.

His hand left your waist to cover his reddening face. Unable to hide the cherry shade of his ears and neck as he whimpered yet again. Choking out a string of moans with tears staining his cheeks when you shush him gently, “‘S only one more baby, give me one more.”

You were the only one with the ability to truly break Satoru if you tried.